Dark Moon, new version
by Kyrieath
Summary: FFIV, AU, Spoilers-DISCONTINUED. See profile for details.
1. Departure

Author: Cyhirae

Note: I completed Dark Moon back in 2002 and I will not deny I was quite pleased with it then. My two attempts at a sequel later, however, proved failures and eventually I realized why: in the intervening years between the original and my attempts at the sequel, my style had changed quite a bit. And the original Dark Moon no longer makes me as proud as it once did - I read it now and see so many things I should have done differently- and my dirty little secret: fully half of Dark Moon was never put into the story. There are several chapters I wrote, then judged as too long and cut out of the story.

So here we are now- with my attempt at a rewrite of my original Dark Moon. This will likely be far longer and more involved than the original- as I'm now confident in my ability to tackle plotpoints I shied away from back in 01-02. Also, the event line will differ for some things.

For those who never read the original Dark Moon, this story revolves around Golbez, his return to the Blue Planet and the situation he discovers unfolding there.

Disclaimer: FFIV and all characters and locations contained within it are not mine. Only the plot for Dark Moon is. Beware spoilers for the DS version as well as the standard plot; I will use Golbez's real name, for instance. If you don't want to know anything more- I strongly suggest you stop right here.

Further Notes to the new/DS only players: This story, as stated, was written before anything was known of Golbez beyond his ties to Cecil. His real name, appearance and relationship with his parents were among the largest enigmas of the FFIV story throughout all but the latest incarnation. For that reason, this story is utterly AU. I will try to rework elements to include all the revealed details but we'll just have to see how well it fits the original plot to this fic.

--

Departure

The halls of this ancient ship seem endless; I have been here for many years now and still I find new places to go, new things to see...though the joy of these discoveries has long become a thin, worthless thing. No matter how different the location- one thing is forever the same. I am the only one there, and a thin layer of ice coats whatever it is I have found.

The Lunarians stay in their ageless sleep; they need not awaken to be among one another. I can hear them when I sleep as well- a regular choir of voices racing through my dreams as they speak with one another about things both amazing and mundane. Sometimes it isn't so bad just to listen...but always, before long, their attention will turn to me. I am an object of curiosity to them...I share their blood but I am human as well; they ask me questions in hopes of a unique perspective, or just to try to learn more about me...sometimes pleasant, sometimes merely curious...at others, outright rude. The Lunarians are a people like any other- not all are pleased that Klu Ya's halfbreed son and puppet of Zemus is here.

All are doomed to disappointment, however. I can hear them...but I cannot speak with the ease they do to one another. Ironic as it is, I have always found it easier to speak with my mother's people in the way my father's wish to...they are too loud; thundering voices that drown out my quiet attempts to respond. And their reactions when they realize all I can do is 'whisper' to them are as unwelcome as their demanding questions: pity in some cases, disgust in others.

I find myself longing for the blue planet more and more; I am hated, feared and reviled there- I can take that far better than any amount of pity or disgust. I want to scream at them- I am not weak, crippled or pitiable. Zemus may have held my strings, but the power I used to at his behest had been my own, always my own. It may be of the Dark, but it is still _mine._ They certainly hadn't pitied me in that time.

"I can't stay here..." My words drift through the frozen air, almost as much a whisper as the 'voice' I try to use to speak with my father's people. It is rusty with disuse...who am I going to talk to here?

No...I can't stay here. But where is there to go? There's certainly little enough company to seek- even that odd clan, should I lose enough of my mind to want to inflict their presence on myself, sleeps when the moon is in motion. Should I risk Bahamut's cave then, and hope the dragon does not object to company? I can think of more pleasant ways to kill myself.

"Theodore...why aren't you sleeping?" A voice old but still strong escapes from a passageway a little ways behind me; Fuso Ya, my uncle and the only Lunarian to leave his sleep at any time, steps free of its shadowy confines. He wears his age, greater than any human could hope to achieve, as a mantle of sorts as he nears me, all the wisdom of those years in those eyes and concern in the hand he rests upon my shoulder.

"I just..needed some time away from them." Hardly a lie, but far from the truth as a whole. I look to him and that gentle concern...and something is twisting inside. If I had not been his nephew- would I be seeing such care from him now? Would I even be alive? My brother and I were the only traces of Klu Ya left- I never doubted that for being his reason to allow me to come at all. If I had not been Klu Ya's son...would he have simply killed me?

Of course. Lunarians are as practical as they are intelligent, at times. I have no doubt he would have aided Cecil- and I would have been swept aside like all the others that stood in their way.

"I understand..but you shouldn't-" His words are halted abruptly as I shrug his hand away, eyes widening a bit in surprise as I step firmly out of reach. "Theodore..?"

And to use that name...It feels like it should belong to someone else. I've been Golbez for so many years; Theodore was a boy who could not even use the most basic of White magic...has he anything to do with who I am now? Golbez may have been a name given to me by Zemus...but it was a difficult identity to just let slip away and take up that ragged, ill fitting mantle of 'Theodore'. Neither fit any longer; but 'Golbez' was the shell I knew better.

"It's alright, I know. No one is supposed to be awake right now; the ship isn't really set up to support anything short of a dragon being active." My words are sharper than I'd intended- those lost and bitter thoughts adding acid to my tone. I regret them almost as soon as they leave my mouth... Watching them strike him like an open handed slap, I feel as ashamed as I had angry and indignant only a moment before. "I'll...go then...you don't have to worry."

I start to walk away quickly then, intending to leave him far behind after that childish outburst. However true the possibility itself might be- it's still not the reality. I wasn't doing myself or him any credit or kindness dwelling on such things. Yet, I find I have far from escaped, for all no footsteps have chased me down the hall. I could flee my uncle all I wanted...

Yet I could never flee this place...not its empty, dark halls or frozen air. At least when Fuso Ya was awake, there was someone to share this exile with...But he spent nearly as much time asleep as the others. With the 'moon' in motion, he need not keep the vigiliance he'd had with the blue planet so close. And here I was, more often awake and wandering than sharing that strange sleep; with no other soul in sight.

In time, I find myself wandering back to the chamber that holds the 'bed' the Lunarians use for such things. Fuso Ya's still stood empty; a brief, childish hope rising that perhaps he was still looking for me after I stormed off...reality soon sets in, however, reminding me that he had many responsibilities to see to whenever he does rise from his bed. His discovery of me out and about had simply been a fluke- it was beyond arrogant to think he'd gone looking for me on finding me absent from the Dreaming the Lunarians share. People fell silent in there for years, sometimes, maybe dreaming their own dreams instead of living in that communal one.

I nearly return to it...then simply shove my cloak in, yanking the door shut tightly. With that to show that _something_ was surely in there through the frozen glaze of the chamber door...Fuso Ya would think I had gone back in it as I'd said I would. That done, I quickly depart the room again; going instead to one of the myriad libraries of the place. Seeing that empty chamber waiting for me, like some sort of glass coffin, had set something loose in me.

I had to leave; this was a living death in a way. I could not sleep these years away- not with that Dream reminding me over and over I could not fit among them. Instead I was simply drifting through the ship, little more than a living spectre. Yet seeing that chamber had brought something else to mind in turn...something Fuso Ya himself had told me all those years ago; or perhaps those crystals in the control room had told me themselves. Reflections of the crystals on the world below- or perhaps the other way around?- tied to them to help keep the balance of the moon while it circled the world...

And there were unusual spells within these libraries of the Lunarians, spells far more advanced than the simple black and white magics of the world my mother had come from. Perhaps in them I could yet find an answer to this double exile I found myself in.

And like any obsession; it keeps at me day and night- if such things can be said to exist here. From one library to the next I wander in this place...no longer aimless. That is perhaps the most glorious feeling of all now- to have a goal after drifting along through these dark halls so long. It's almost a disappointment in a way when I at last find the spell I seek- that goal had become my only companion since I had fled the chamber.

Yet excitement is lingering behind it all as well. If I understand the spell correctly...it is not impossible. It will not be easy or pleasant, but it is not impossible. Sympathetic magics, a spell to build a bridge between them...then I would only need cross it. In theory, it was not unlike the most basic principle of the Devil's Road. Perhaps this is the self same spell that had inspired my father to craft such a thing.

Still, there were dangers to the Road; dangers made even more prominent here. That stable creation of Klu Ya drained those who used it...the price for their passage was some of their vitality for a time. It was nothing that could not be recovered from, but it made anyone a victim of it interested in doing nothing so much as napping as soon as they exited that strange pathway.

I would have no steady, pre-made path to use. If simply passing between Baron and Mysidia was so taxing...what would happen when I tried to do this? No matter, it was a risk I would have to take. I couldn't remain in this place. The spell structure is worked out slowly on a bit of paper; when the time comes, I had to make absolutely certain every small symbol was just right, every glyph in place.

Yet it is not the only thing that I write. When my mind grows too weary of equations and patterns, a letter takes up my time instead, between fits of restless sleep. I have not seen my uncle since that meeting...I do not want to see him again. He would somehow know what I am up to, I think, if I gave him the chance to find me. And my resolve would just vanish; I'd let him talk me into staying.

And even so, I have to leave him something to explain. When the last of the spell is deciphered and the letter complete...it's a simple enough matter to slip into the Crystal Chamber and begin the preparations. The letter is carefully tucked into the door; anything within the circle I draw between the crystals will be departing with me. Then the spell is set- a web between all the crystals, depicting balances and conflicts between them...lines left broken to indicate the missing eight of the Blue Planet from the diagram.

The request of the spell is simple: Send me to the place that holds the missing links. It crosses my mind, briefly, the many ways that could be misconstrued; so it is to one of the pale blue crystals I promptly stare as the spell takes hold, willing myself to its mate. I hardly want to arrive in eight seperate pieces, perhaps; or trapped deep underground.

The diagram blazes to life, opening nothing but darkness beneath me that draws me in relentlessly...even as the letter disappears from the door suddenly. It flies open, showing me Fuso Ya standing and shouting at me, paper clutched in his hand...but there's no sound in this strange void I tumble into; and soon no sight, no feeling...I'm simply no where...

And in that dark nothingness, I find my first true sleep in ages.

--

To Be Continued in "Interlude I: The Letter".


	2. Interlude, The Letter

Author: Cyhirae

Note: Awfully early for an interlude, I know...I usually wait till the fourth chapter. I had intended to put this in "Departure", but that one had gotten rather long so...A mini-chapter for you all, to show what was written in that letter with a li'l Fuso Ya point of view going on here.

--

Interlude I: The Letter

_Fuso Ya_

Perhaps it had been the look on your face that day, Theodore, that warned me your time here was nearing its end. Perhaps it was the many days in which you had sat silent in the communal Dream before then; frustrated and angry, plainly, and yet unable to voice it as we so easily did. Was I wrong to grant your request to come with us? ...No, I do not think I was. However, I made a grave error in thinking you could ever be comfortable among us for the rest of your life.

I was wrong to simply assume you'd not care that we left the world of your birth behind.

I can only stare where you had stood a moment before; clever man that you were, what could have possessed you to try such a spell? A request, even a single word of your desire to return and I would have made an arrangement of some sort... Regrets will change nothing, however. You are gone now; perhaps dead, perhaps gone to the Blue Planet...

Yet you left this letter behind. I unfold it slowly, eyes scanning over the contents...

_Uncle,_

_I have never written anything like this before...if it seems odd or awkward, it was the best I could do. I will not apologize for what I've chosen to do- I could not stay here any longer. Not even a moment more once I had the means to depart. You call me 'Theodore' and yet I've been 'Golbez' for so long...I'm neither of those people now. And I have my doubts I'll ever find who I am among the Lunarians. "The son of Klu Ya", "Zemus' Puppet", "Fuso Ya's Nephew"- that's all I am here._

_I know I've been an ungrateful guest; I spoke sharply to you when we last met and you did not deserve it. Now I am leaving with hardly a word of warning beyond some ink on paper. I find I'm apparently something of a coward, to leave in such a way. Yet I wanted to say this._

_As my mentor, you have my eternal, if cowardly, respect. As my uncle...love? Respect? I don't know; I don't know what one should say about their family. My gratitude most certainly, for all it feels a sorry thing compared to what I think I should feel._

_This letter has become a ramble...so I will close it now. The preparations are complete; tomorrow I return to the Blue Planet to see if the identity I couldn't find here is there instead. It has been many years now, hasn't it? Five, perhaps even ten? Maybe now there is a chance for me there._

_I will never forget you or the kindness you showed to me, your stranger of a nephew. If we ever meet again, I hope to be someone you would be glad to claim as a nephew, someone who could wipe away those whispers of being Zemus' puppet or nothing more than the son of your brother._

_Farewell, Uncle._

_-Your Nephew_

Oh you fool...I fold the letter back down, noting it wasn't even sealed. Did no one teach you how to do so? No, I imagine not...I will seal it later, to preserve the ink. I wish I had come sooner; to catch you before the spell had begun, to try to talk to you at least one more time. Instead...all I have is a poorly written letter from a desperate man hiding behind a mask of pride to remember you with. You did not even sign a name to it.

"Farewell, my foolish nephew...I pray you find what you took such a risk for."

I turn my back on the room, letting the door close behind me with all the firmness of a sealing tomb...the diagram you used is all but burned into the floor now. And I have no desire to look upon it...if I saw some mistake, some flaw that would have most certainly spelled your doom, I could not hold onto that faint hope that you succeeded.

And above all: Pray that we did again somehow meet, so I could tell you what you seemed to not understand. Theodore, Golbez or whomever you become...I was always glad to claim you as my nephew.

--

To Be Continued in: Arrival (Yes, I'm SO imaginative with title/chapter names. XD)


	3. Arrival

Author: Cyhirae

Note: And here we hit the first of the big re-writes to include the DS given knowledge to a degree. And some of this is confusing; it's meant to be. For newcomers to Dark Moon; my dream sequences are always odd. ;)

--

Arrival

The first thing I find myself aware of is that I seem to not be aware at all. An odd realization to come to...but plainly this cannot be reality. I am standing before a cottage I know is no longer whole, watching a pair of people I know are long dead...and sitting before them? Myself...as little more than a child, listening to mother and father as they talk about the baby to come.

Dreams are truly strange things, unfurling themselves as they see fit. I never wondered back then why mother looked to frail and wan...I never thought to ask my father why even the most basic of white magic eluded me. I never thought to ask why we had to live so far away from everyone else, even though mother had a few times lamented the lack of playmates for me and her future child. They had seemed such unimportant things back then. I had ways of keeping myself entertained and well...Father was so good at magic, mother would always be alright, wouldn't she?

It's hard to believe that was me sitting at their feet, so blind and trusting. No; I had nothing in common with that little boy. Theodore was long dead.

As that thought takes hold, the landscape changes suddenly; the sky darkening rapidly as the figures fade from before the home...which fast falls into ruin, as if years were passing with every breath. The air grows sharper, colder...suddenly I'm aware I'm actually in this dream, not just an impartial observer as I'd thought. I can feel the chill in the air as sharply as I ever had within the Lunarians' home...perhaps I failed?

Perhaps I'm simply laying on the cold floor, freezing to death until Fuso Ya finds me frozen in the midst of a failed spell? An unpleasant thought that; though one logic is fast to dismiss. He had been entering as the spell took; even if he were angry with me, he'd never leave me there to die in such a way. It's a mystery, then, why the cold of this place feels so real...not even the communal dreams were this sharp, so much like reality.

As I puzzle through this, the temperature only continues to drop...the trees are heavy with ice now, while a heavy and unforgiving layer of it has collapsed the home in on itself...just as well, I suppose. I could have never sheltered in there for long, with the phantoms of Theodore and his family flitting through them. I will have to try the forest then- there should be some branches I can use- even coated with ice, a simple fire spell will set them blazing.

The dream has its own rules, however. A step into the forest becomes a swirl of ice-shattered trees and flattened brush rushing by me; it doesn't set me free until I find myself standing in another place I remember far more sharply than I care to. The place where Theodore 'died' and Golbez was born after leaving a helpless child out to die in the night's cold. Was this dream supposed to be some sort of punishment for that; my conscience deciding now, of all times, to remind me of that?

_So self centered...do you think everything has to do with you?_

I stop short in my scanning of the area at that...turning to the direction the 'shout' had come from...in the distance? Baron castle stands proudly as it ever has, though the walls gleam unnaturally bright under the dim light of stars and moon. Such dark stone they had made the walls out of...why would it shine so brightly? And that voice...Zemus? No, I'd never forget that horrible voice...

_'Leave him be.'_ A new voice now; powers over all, I'd had quite enough of someone else's voice in my head for so many years. Now two in one dream? Yet no protest is rising...I open my mouth to silence emerging, and my own inner 'voice' I had misused under Zemus' guidance remains stilled. _'He is not ready for this.'_

_Neither was I. None of us were. There is no time to coddle him._

_'Give him time. Let him awaken; he will return when he has a better guide. If you do this now, it will fail.' _For all I can't speak, I can certainly bristle at such a ready assumption- I don't even know what these voices are discussing but if they're going to talk about me, they could at least talk _to _me! And to assume I would simply fail at something without even saying what it is...

_...If it takes too long, it will not matter how much you understand. _So they can eavesdrop at will, eh? At least the one can. _Look behind you and see then some hint of what you shall carry warning of._ I turn at that voice's directing; both are naggingly familiar but that one is even more so. I don't have long to ponder it however before I see that the forest has disappeared, swallowed by some black mist...

Swallowed..? ...No. It's no mist; it's simply a lack of anything existing at all. Even as I watch, the heavy ice coating the ground begins to crack...crumbling the ground beneath it and dragging it down into the abyss of emptiness before me. And even as those cracks are running toward me, my feet remain locked to the ground; somewhere in all of that, the ice had crept over them, holding me in place as those cracks spread all around me. Before the ground can give, however, something is striking at the ice from behind me, shattering it and dragging me back from the plummet that had been reaching for me...

_'Awaken now; you are safe, if only for a short time.'_ The hand grasping my arm continues to pull me back, roughly enough to send me down to the ice. Where it once held me before, however, I simply pass through it with a cry of alarm I couldn't choke down as my voice returns to me. Fearing the abyss I'd seen beneath this ice, I reach for the one who let me go, now nothing more than a silhoutte through glazed ice, a single word taking shape in that cry...

"Wait!"

"Ow! Hey, if you want me to wait all you have to do is _say_ so, not break my arm!"

_That_ indignant yelp has no place in that dream at all...and it's being heard firmly outside of my mind. Of that I'm quite sure. I open my eyes, confused to say the least after having expected only the nothingness of that void. The disorientation is fast subsiding however as I take in my surroundings; including the appearance of my apparant prisoner. If I need proof of my spell's success, I only had to look there; from the drab blue-gray robes to the ridiculous yellow hat...if that isn't the garb of a Mysidian Black Mage, then I am Bahamut.

I set him loose and sit up carefully, taking in my surroundings...that odd cold still has something of a hold on me; clinging to my very bones even as a bit of wan sunlight peers through a barred window...

Barred? A cell then... What an auspicious start to my return.

"That's one hell of a grip! Who are you, anyway?" The Black Mage is glaring at me; if it wasn't so laughable, I'd almost say he was trying to be intimidating. Barring the ridiculous garb's detrimental effects to that end, he looked to be hardly more than fifteen; I'd give him sixteen at absolute most. Given the things _I _was capable of by the time I was his age...he was going to have to try harder than that.

"Hello Hey! Are you listening? I asked a question!" I had already resolved to ignore him for now; a soft sigh behind him soon followed by a smack, however, draws my attention back to where he stands. Behind him stands another mage, this one clad in white robes. She's offering up an apologetic smile even as the black mage rights his hat with a grimace. "What'd you do that for, Porom? He's ignoring us!"

"With manners like that? I would not be surprised if he were, Palom." Then she's stepping forward, offering a bit of a bow. "Please, sir, forgive the lack of manners...we found you in the Crystal Chamber and people have been a bit on edge as a result." 'People' in this case must be almost entirely her brother, as I fail to see any other mages clamoring at me to explain my presence. "The Elder is most concerned; both for you and for the Crystal. It was behaving quite oddly before you were found. Please tell us who you are and how you came to be there."

Porom...Palom. Those names are somehow familiar, though for now they escape me. I set that thought aside for the moment, contenting myself with studying them...they look about the same age; and with names and faces like that, it's no wonder. They must be twins, for all their polar personalities.

"Geeze, not a word out of him! Do you think he's Silenced or something, Porom?" Ah, the black mage, Palom, speaks again. He walks right back up to the side of the pallet they had set me on, evidently, after finding me...crossing his arms and glaring down at me as if his force of will alone will make me speak. It's not as if I hadn't been giving some thought to what I would have to say to someone about myself while I worked on that spell...but that strange dream has shaken loose the lies I had readied.

I suppose I should be grateful to my mother's blood in me; I had none of Cecil's exotic coloration, so plainly inherited from Klu Ya. But for the Lunarian garb and violet eyes, I looked as human as these twins and nothing like my brother; at least the armor of Golbez had ensured that much would be easy for me. People were highly unlikely to recognize me on sight without that rather distinctive set of armor, eh?

"Sir, please. You are going to be detained here until the Elder is sure of your intentions and the Crystal's safety...your silence does not help you in this." Trust a white mage to try diplomacy first and foremost. I certainly have no intention of announcing who I am, however. And the longer I take to respond, the less likely they are to believe me. I could likely even tell them the truth and them not believe it; this was a case of it being stranger than the fiction I had pondered.

"...I was simply desperate to leave a place I had been; the Crystal had proven a powerful anchor to lean on. I did not intend to come to Mysidia or to alarm anyone." There...truth enough, though lacking significant details, plainly. The two mages look to one another a moment, then withdraw to the other side of the room...a private meeting, evidently. In this tiny room? Their hearing must be dull to think I wouldn't be able to listen in.

"I don't trust him...this is way too fishy." Well, aren't _you_ observant, my blue robed friend. A three year old would think something odd about someone turning up in Mysidia's most heavily guarded chamber. "I mean, just look at 'im! He's a wizard of some kind, but he's all dolled up like that Lunarian!"

Well _that's_ certainly unexpected; I know Klu Ya had dealings with the Mysidians but these two were far too young to have ever met him. I study the barred window with seeming thoughtfulness; my attention is now fully for that little conversation in the far corner.

"Hush, Palom! Are you truly implying what I think you might be?" The white mage's tone is plainly uneasy; whatever her brother's misgivings, she plainly shares at least a few of them. She casts a look my way; I feel it more than I see it...a shifting of her attention to me before flickering back to her brother. These people are so wide open compared to Lunarians...all but shouting their thoughts to anyone with talent enough to hear.

"If you're thinking it too, then we'd better tell the Elder _and _Cecil! He'd want to know if Go-" And he falls rather suddenly silent, his sister's hand ungently planting itself over his mouth as she looks my way again. I make no pretense of not watching them now; how could that move not get someone's attention?

"I think you are jumping to conclusions! He cannot possibly be him; you are letting your imagination getting the better of you!" If I couldn't hear what was running through her mind, that tone would be convincing. But the unease is there; and they plainly knew Cecil. Not as Baron's King, either. There had been no title of respect; there had even a friendly sort of familiarity about the name and the feelings tied to it.

These two were a bit sharper, or just better informed, than I had initially thought.

And now, the final piece falls into place. Palom and Porom; a pair of Mysidian magelings who had accompanied my brother from Mysidia to Mount Ordeals. They and the old man who had killed himself in his attempt to kill me in Zot had helped defeat Scarmiglione and Cagnazzo. How old had they been then..? Either way, my decision has just been made for me. I did not come here simply to walk into the hands of those who had known my brother or my actions at that time.

I've no doubt they'd demand I take some responsibility for the things I had done; and that was something I had no intention of doing. I would not shoulder the burden of taking any punishment for crimes Zemus had committed through my hands. That was not why I had returned here.

The little conversation in the corner comes to an end; whatever else they discussed, I had missed in my own furious thinking. The white mage, Porom, steps forward then, keeping that polite little smile on her face. Even after that, she's still trying for some diplomacy, eh?

"Sir, if we could at least have your name-"

"I think I shall be going, truthfully. It would be better for all concerned if I didn't linger here." Both mages blink at me a moment; I suppose it isn't every day a prisoner ups and decides he's had enough of his cell, eh? I push myself up from the bed, firmly ignoring the remaining aches and complaints from a body feeling much abused...this cell is warded, obviously. Yet after overcoming the distance between the Moon and this world, to appear in the Crystal Chamber? These paltry things are no challenge to me. I close my eyes even as the mages regather their wits from my abrupt little declaration...

Then it's a simple push against the spells on this cell I send out, no need for an elaborate spell here. These wards were so much more simplistic than the ones I had studied on the ship to pass the days...the mage who had woven these had much potential, but little in the way of imagination for altering the underlying spell. They could layer the surface however they liked; if you knew the base, it was as good as having a skeleton key.

A soft gasp followed by the sound of rustling cloth sliding across the floor brings me out of the semi-trance I had fallen into; the girl, Porom, is on her knees, eyes glazed. Backlash shock? What had they been thinking, allowing a near-child like this to lay the spell? Her brother is kneeling by her, shaking her lightly, his eyes wide...it must be their first encounter with it. Ah, well...live and learn, little mages. It's not as if such is fatal, not in this instance.

"Porom? Porom! Snap out of it! Wake up!" Then he's dashing to the door, even as I start a chant of my own...careless of them. They honestly should have Silenced me, though I suppose that makes for poor interrogation results, eh? "Elder! Someone get the Elder! Porom's hurt!" Then the sound of my chanting finally catches his attention; a helpless seeming fury settling into his eyes. Apparently he's realized I'm too far along for him to hope to stop my spell with one of his own.

A pity I forgot one small detail about my brother's friends: They're every bit as headstrong as he is, sometimes.

"What did you do to my sister?!" Evidently I'm going to be making this trip with company. Even as the door is opening to permit several more mages in, Palom is colliding with me as the spell takes hold. The same black nothingness that had brought me here envelopes us again...then promptly drops me into some place not so bitingly cold as that dream had been, but by no means is it particularly comfortable and more than somewhat alarming as water closes over my head and rushes into mouth and nose...

I struggle up to the surface, shoving away lilypads and their furiously croaking residents...to a chorus of giggles and titters sounding above me. Troia castle lies above; and it's truly no wonder how the Dark Elf found it so easy to steal the Crystal back then. Their reaction to seeing a man suddenly appearing in their moat is to start laughing? Were this Baron, I would already have half a dozen swords aimed at my throat.

Make that 'men' appearing in their moat...as a yellow hat floating by informs me I didn't come here alone. I start to trudge out of the moat, hoping to be well on my way before Palom puts in his reappearance...only to find something hanging off of my cloak as I emerge from the water. A frog; a blue-grey one with human eyes.

"Don't you try to run away!" Well, I'll give him credit for quick thinking; not many would think to use a toad spell to keep from drowning. I flick the cloak to try to get him to let go, but the stubborn mage holds on. "I'm not letting you go anywhere until you tell me what you did to my sister!" Above, the guards are laughing even harder at the sight of a shouting toad being shaken back and forth by me. Wonderful start to this journey: first I wind up in a Mysidian jail and now I'm the afternoon entertainment at Troia.

"I would like to see what you think you could do to stop me." Resolving to ignore him for now, at least until he thinks to undo the spell, I set off into the town proper. Some proper rest, some gathering of supplies and then I would see about finding a proper place for myself in this world, somewhere.

I'd decide what to do about my 'companion' later. At least I likely have little to worry about from the mage for the moment. Cecil would never be allied to someone who'd strike a sleeping man down. Nor was he likely to return to Mysidia; such distance traveling without spells like I employed through the Crystals' ties to one another were the realm of White magic. So, for now, he was every bit as stranded as I.

One baffled innkeeper later; I've finally detached the toad from my cloak and tossed him on another bed to cure himself or dry up as he pleases before collapsing on one myself...the world falling away before my eyes are even closed. Sleep never claimed me this quickly on the Lunarian Moon...and never with such a feeling of dread on its heels.

--

To Be Continued in: Waking Nightmare


	4. Waking Nightmare

Author: Cyhirae

Note: And now for some of the missing content of the original. I had hurried the story along to Baron last time, even though Golbez honestly had no desire to go there. That was always one of the weaker plot points in the original- so here is what was cut out at that point. And I did rather give Troia the short end of the intelligence stick in the last version to cut this scene and all related events to it out. ;

--

Waking Nightmare

I awaken to a vicious cold closing all around me...clinging tighter than it ever had even on the moon as it pierces through the skin and delves into the bone. I have to force myself to rise; I'm going to freeze if I don't move, yet my body protests every motion as too painful. When did Troia ever become so cold? Certainly it had its own winters to contend with, but this was far beyond any mere 'winter'.

Cold like this belonged only in the void that lay between worlds. And yet, looking about myself...I stand in the inn I had laid down to sleep in, though the bed I had tossed Palom to lies devoid of him...not, however, of an occupant. None of them do, actually, save the one I rose from. Pitiful, withered forms with a sheen of somewhat translucent ice over them to offer some guard against the full display of the grisly reality...

These people had not died quickly. In the far corner lies what looked to've been an attempt to light a bonfire; within a building? I step carefully toward that pile of blackened wood...it, too, carries a heavy coating of ice. As do the figures curled on the floor or against the walls. People who had sought protection from this cold and found even fire lacked that power here.

I hurry out of the inn; something far more easily said than done. The stairs are more a ramp of the same ice that clings to everything else while the door was barricaded long before the ice added its own layer. It takes the strongest fire spell I can offer to cut through it all, only to find myself standing firmly in the middle of a continuing nightmare... Ice shattered trees, odd shapes that could be people frozen where they stood...

"What in the..." A distant sound catches my attention; a Crystal's soft chiming...though this sounds strained, off key. I set off through the streets, chasing that sound...the Crystal had been fine when I had laid the spell work come here; Troia had been fine. How could this have all happened? It feels so surreal I am half certain it must be a dream, like the other...but the biting of that cold is far too real to dismiss so easily.

The castle of Troia fared no better than the town. The walls are coated thickly in the ice that seems to dominate the world as far as I can see...though oddly, there's nothing of snow about it. It is only ice, sometimes clouded, sometimes translucent...I wish more of it were clouded. Unlike those people in the inn, these ones had died near instantly, frozen where they stood. The fear, the terror of knowing they were dying remains stark on their faces where the ice lets it shine through...a silent mockery of monuments in place of the gravestones they should have.

It remains the same through the confines of the castle; though some hope I hadn't even realized was stirring leaps to life on seeing the final room before the Crystal Chamber...the far wall has streamers of ice along it, thickening steadily as I watch...but it is not yet taken. The door is free of it as well, the ice recently broken at the bottom. So someone is still alive...

_Not for much longer, they aren't...What are you doing in Troia? It's too late for this place._

That voice again. Not the one that had cast me out of the dream last time...this was the one that had first spoken. I firmly give a wordless shove to the invasion, feeling a bit of smug satisfaction at the surprise and exasperation that rises in response. I'm in no mood for someone else to be speaking in my mind; I'd had enough of that in my youth and then in struggling with that communal dream...

_Be that way all you like; you'll have to set that pride aside sooner or later._

I make no response of any kind this time. Instead, I hurry to those doors, pulling them open. Within? ...Troia's fate is playing out in slower motion before my eyes. The eight sisters are gathered around their Earth Crystal, hands outstretched as they try to harness it to save their kingdom...an exercise in futility. But they can't do much else now, that is plain...the ice is creeping in thin sheets about them where they stand, slithering up their legs and twining about their arms...can't they see what's happening? The Crystal itself is slowly cracking as ice snakes around it, the glow steadily dimming.

"What are you doing, you damned fools? The Crystal cannot stop this!" They don't respond to my words; all they do is continue murmuring their prayers as the ice begins to spiderweb through their hair, across their cheeks...they'll be frozen statues before much longer, just like all the rest. "It's useless!"

_So is trying to speak with them. You're little better than a phantom to those sisters...listen to their chants and take them back with you as a warning...and you should go soon, I'd say. You've stood still far too long._

At those words I look downward...where the ice has begun to coil about my own feet, sealing them to the floor. Vibrating through it, through the whole chamber those desperate prayers can be heard- echoed by the ice in some sort of sick, strange joke on their pleas...

"Save our lands, Crystal of Earth..."

"Give us strength to turn back this horror..."

"Save our people, Crystal of Earth..."

"Give us hope that we will survive..."

Alternating out, over and over, even as I begin my own desperate chants; fire spells to free myself of the ice. But for every bit I melt away, it only freezes back thicker, creeping steadily higher. My fate seems as inevitable as theirs; I cannot destroy it fast enough to escape. I can feel it sinking straight into the bone as it reaches my waist and begins to cut into my chest even as rivulets of it slide over my eyes, stealing my sight...

"Yeowch- damn, you're cold! What were you doing; casting blizzard in your sleep?!" That annoying and most certainly male voice has no place at all in that macabre scene; my eyes snap open, though I fast regret it as the light stabs painfully into them...Troia had been so dark despite all of that ice...even the torchlight of the inn is bright in comparison.

Torchlight? The inn? I sit up quickly, ignoring the ache it brings and the protest of Palom as he scrambles back out of my way, hand releasing my arm...yes, the inn, still bright with torches and the beds lying empty of frozen corpses...there are no bonfire remains in the far side, no gleam of ice on the walls or floor.

"...A nightmare...just a nightmare..." That's about all the explanation I care to give; and I'm not entirely sure who I'm saying it to. Palom or myself? Or perhaps to the one thing that has changed in the inn since I evidently went to sleep..it's slow to register after that panicked inspection, but the delicate clearing of a throat informs me that the mage and I aren't the only occupants any longer.

By the entry, one of the sisters stands with two of her guards in attendance...though my inspection of her is brief at best. I have to look away after that...I can recall that nightmare with a startling clarity...made even more so by a simple fact: I saw her there, among them. Her precise features, right down to the rings on those hands she'd held out so beseechingly to the Crystal...

And I had never been to Troia all my life. But it was just a nightmare...

"You would be the wizards who arrived by the castle earlier this day?" The sister's voice is soft, just as it had been in that nightmare as she'd spoken in chorus with the others...though the sickening feel of deja vu is shunted aside somewhat by the slight pause in her tone.

"In the moat, you mean." I spare a glare for Palom in that; he's safe enough to look at, being a face I've seen outside of that nightmare...and it was entirely his fault my aim had taken me into the water. "...I suppose there is little point in denying it; enough of your guards saw that particular fiasco." Palom simply crosses his arms at me, glaring right back and utterly unrepentant.

"Don't give _me_ that look; you're the one who ran off! You're still under arrest in Mysidia you know; for the same reason I bet they're here!" He looks almost triumphant at that, a certain smugness that has me momentarily tempted to return him to a toad's form. If he wants to go puffing himself up over this, the least I could do was give him a form that could properly do so, eh? That sister's voice cuts through my attempts to get my thoughts in order enough to cast that rarely used spell, however, calling attention back to her.

"Then I would speak with you of that event. The Crystal reacted oddly when you did so-" I make a quick gesture to cut her off, heaving a sigh...though I can't make my eyes return to her face. I won't see her standing there talking to me; I'll be seeing her slowly freezing to death in my mind, chanting as her lips turn blue and her skin stiffens... I shudder sharply at the thought, glaring past Palom now as I try to find a torch or some other thing to glare at as I speak. Anything but recalling that scene of slow death...

"It was a spell miscast; it follows the ley lines the Crystals themselves do." Not quite true; but I am not about to admit I've been using their precious Crystals as my personal Devil's Road. ...Perhaps that is what is causing those strange dreams? Fatigue can do odd things to a person...and this woman would have spent much of her life before the Crystal of Earth; all eight of them would have.

Perhaps I picked up some images of them from the Crystal through the spell? That thought makes it easier to finally look to her, though not for long. Even with that theory to reassure me, it is an image that refuses to leave my mind for long. She looks typical enough of the people of Troia...long brown hair bound back by a flower decorated clip; robes of amber and soft brown with green edging draped about her...but for the colors, it looks much like the robes others here wear. They are simply done in the appropriate colors for a servant of the Crystal. That thought gives me more strength to push the image away...

Coincidence. It has to be coincidence.

"...You look like one who has seen a ghost. Come, both of you. I would discuss this...ley line spell of yours and the effects it had on the Crystal. You may not have intended harm, but you acted carelessly." The guards at her side move forward; normally I'd laugh. Troia's guardians were no warriors of Baron, and even those I could have dispatched with ease. The cold still clings to me, however...and frankly, a rather heavy feeling of disgust is overwhelming any humor I might otherwise be taking in this situation.

They don't even know who I am and I'm still being greeted with hostility. Before the guards can set about trying to drag me from the bed, however, the sister is stepping forward, waving them off after looking me over.

"See to the Mysidian; this one is no danger if we do not make him one, I think." The guards step back at that, going around instead to 'escort' a loudly protesting Palom out the door...though perhaps he's wiser than I thought on some levels. He's making plenty of noise, but not a single spell. Before me, the sister is holding her hand out to help me rise from the bed...another thing I would call laughable if not for the fact I find myself leaning heavily on her. My legs still feel numb; prickling now and then with that horrible cold that permeated the nightmare.

And I can feel that careful certainty I'd built up chipping away; I certainly hadn't felt like this when I had shifted myself from Mysidia to Troia... I couldn't blame the spell for that, could I? She gives a soft grunt of effort to support my weight until my legs have regained feeling enough to hold me up...frowning up at me in concern. How odd that feels, for anyone to spare that sort of look for me, beyond my uncle.

"...You're all but frozen..." Odd; she sounded a touch fearful rather than simply concerned. The rest of the walk to the castle is done in silence; even Palom has run out of things to say, beyond grumbles and kicks at stones in the path before us. More than once, he looks back to say something- whether to me or the sister, we never find out as the guards simply hustle him along.

The protests renew quite loudly once we're within the castle, however. The sister urges me to follow her into the room just before the chamber; a place I again have never set eyes on but remember with an unpleasant clarity from the nightmare. Even the places at which the guards stand is the same. That pleasant sense of security is rapidly chipping away with every step. When we reach the doors, the sister gestures for Palom to be kept in the room before it.

"This is between the sorcerer and we sisters; you may wait out here, Mysidian." Palom draws up short at that, fury coloring his face a brilliant scarlet as he crosses his arms while the guards cross their spears to keep him from advancing...a joke of a motion, to my mind. If this teenager had been of any use to Cecil as a _child_, I have to think he's more than capable of brushing off a pair of poorly armed and armored guards.

If not; my brother had some truly horrific taste in companions and I'm even more embarrassed about the fates of Scarmiglione and Cagnazzo.

"Then why did you drag me along?! _I_ didn't do anything wrong! He's the one that's throwing dangerous spells around!" The sister pauses at that, looking to Palom first and then myself, musingly. "And he hurt my sister! You're going to go ahead and let him near your Crystal when he's doing things like that? Are you crazy?"

"Hm...and what have you to say to his accusations, sorcerer?" Odd, that's the second time she's used that title toward me. I shrug in response, giving a look that's surely condescending to Palom a moment before looking back to her.

"I wasn't aware his sister had laid the wards I bypassed; she simply went into backlash shock." 'Simply' probably isn't quite right; but if it hadn't killed her right off then it wasn't likely to do more than leave her sick and dazed for a few days. "It wasn't an attack, just a side effect. Try explaining that to him, however." She frowns at that...but makes no move to recall the guards from holding Palom back.

"I see; we will discuss your sister's condition when we are finished, Mysidian...though if it is what the sorcerer claims, your own folk should have seen to her already." With that, she turns and draws me into the chamber the eight of them hold council in. And it's a good thing, perhaps, I am having to lean on her still. My strength is being slow to return in the wake of that determined chill; and I would have much rather turned around and left on seeing it too looks like all else I saw in my dream. I likely would have, if I'd had the strength to do so.

It's giving the distinct feeling of standing before your own tomb, given what had begun to happen in that dream, just beyond those doors in the far wall... Doors the sister is still guiding me toward, even as the other seven fall into step behind us.

I stop a short ways from them, refusing to go any closer to that place. The gleaming walls and floors of those chambers will make it far too easy to recall that nightmare. She doesn't urge me onward, however- she slips away and allows the sister just behind us to take her place in supporting me as she stands before the doors, a touch swinging them open.

"Come forward, Golbez. The Crystal whispers there is much you have to tell us, and little time to make use of it."

--

To Be Continued in: Revelations of Earth (Yes, a cliffhanger of sorts cuz this was getting long.)


	5. Revelations of Earth

Author: Cyhirae

Note: Bear with me on the slow updates, please. I have a bunch of different projects going (mostly all original; Dark Moon is the only fanfic I'm actively working on) and I'm looking up my old notes periodically and tweaking them accordingly. That takes a bit of time to sort.

I should note here that any fully _italicized _lines are the thoughts of others that Golbez is hearing/eavesdropping on.

On writing this one, I can see why I had cut this arc at first. I didn't much care for portraying Golbez as someone just as vulnerable as the rest- if not a little more so in some ways, for all his strength. I realize now, however, with the original Dark Moon, it also rather cut out a rather important point for his development both as a character and for his ties with Palom. The original bandaid job I did with the single chapter that replaced this whole arc, "Sorcerer vs Wizard", feels rather pitiful now.

--

Revelations of Earth

"Come forward, Golbez. The Crystal whispers there is much you have to tell us, and little time to make use of it."

I have not known fear many times in my life; nearly all were when I was a still a child. Zemus' hold left little room for such things to influence me much. I've certainly known trepidation- it was making itself well known from the moment they came to escort me into here.

Now; fear is definitely the proper word for that quick, unpleasant burst of feeling that stabs at me at those words. And it's only made worse by not quite grasping why that feeling is even there... These women would be no challenge to me. They couldn't even fend off the Dark Elf. But something is settling in the pit of my stomach as the one who led me here just looks at me expectantly.

"You need not know fear here, Golbez. We knew you were to come; the Crystal itself whispered to us of the spell that bound it and who walked the paths woven between it and its fellows." She smiles at me; kindly as you could ask. I can feel a frown returning that attempt at grace; she can smile as serenely as she likes- there's a tension in the air that isn't mine alone. Perhaps I was not unexpected...

But I would never go so far as to believe I was welcome here.

"You claim the Crystal spoke to you and told you I was coming; so?" I don't try to temper the sharpness in those words...I've had quite enough of people tugging me this way and that through my life. I didn't come back here just to let myself get drawn into some new situation. "Whatever it is it said; I have nothing to tell you. I have only just come here and have gone from a prison to a moat to an inn; what could I know that's of any aid to you?"

The sisters stand silent at that; if they had expected a more gracious response to their 'welcome', they were just going to have to be disappointed. The sister who led me here simply watches me for a time...then she's turning from me to fully enter the Crystal Chamber, stopping just before the steps. The other seven walk around me to follow- myself? I'm not going in that place.

I couldn't, not without feeling as if I were about to step back within that nightmare...

The sisters span around the room...each standing where they had in the dream. I find myself unable to look away; it's like watching some twisted play being put on for my benefit as they raise their hands in supplication to the Crystal..two begin to speak...then four...then six...at last the final pair joins in, intoning the soft, repeating chant...

"Save our lands, Crystal of Earth..."

"Give us strength to turn back this horror..."

"Save our people, Crystal of Earth..."

"Give us hope that we will survive..."

The ice-like walls, the droning chant- for all the air is warm around me, it truly feels as if that nightmare is now trying to invade even my waking hours. The Crystal gleams in time with the chant, filling the room with that painfully brilliant light; it's like and unlike that horrific dream. I want to flee it; when last I'd stood in this room it had been to see my own death encasing me even as it took them as well.

And yet like that dream, my feet seem all but bound to the floor- I'm almost willing to swear I can feel the bite of ice crawling along my flesh, ice not even the fiercest of my spells had been able to thaw long enough to escape...

"Hey! What the he- what's wrong with 'im?!" Hands are gripping my shoulders, shaking me roughly where I lie on the floor...the floor? When did I get there..? The image of that frozen room and the death that came in it is suddenly fading from my sight; I'm staring up instead at the face of a scowling teenager in Mysidian robes. I should know him...but the name escapes me right now.

Most everything is but for sudden bursts of recall of that slow death that had been taking me; taking all of Troia, even the Crystal itself. It keeps trying to return with every distant seeming chime of that Crystal, threatening to pull me back into that place even while awake. The room starts to fade again from my sight, dragging me downward again...

Just in time to feel a sudden, sharp pain burst across my face; not the slow, dull pain of cold. This was blazingly hot in comparison, and comes again in another startling flash. In the wake of it, I can hear the sound of voices...some raised in anger or shock together. Protest? Yes, it's the sisters, arguing with someone.

"He can't do anything if he's like this-" _If he hurt Porom, he has to set her right...but if they go screwing with his head, how can he? Argh!_

"You had no right to interfere with-" _He saw something, just as the Crystal said...why is this _boy_ deciding to interfere now!_

A mix of word and thought I'm fast finding myself unable to sort one from the other. Whether they're shouting near me or just in my head, I can't tell. I do know I must have been able to form some kind of response...the voices suddenly fall silent, both within and without. It's hardly a sensation I have time to enjoy before reality is slipping away...thankfully it's bringing no dream in its wake this time.

Just some true sleep I suddenly suspect, in those brief seconds, I've barely had at all.

--

_Why do I have to look after him? Do I look like a nurse maid!?_

_Oh right...I said he was under Mysidian custody and I'm the only Mysidian here that isn't ancient or drooling after their dancers...Not that they look bad or anything. _

_Geh...damn it; why'd he have to go and _faint_? Maybe he's not him after all...can't picture ol' tincan of darkness passing out just over some creepy dream..._

My senses return one at a time; first the awareness of lying flat on another bed...then the acrid scent of medicinal herbs and other forms of growing greenery. That eventually becomes pungent enough to hurry me along in my waking...along with that endless rambling from somewhere nearby. My voice is the next thing that returns to me, forcing itself past my lips in such a ragged, weak sound it's hard to believe it's my own.

"...If you do not shut up, you'll be the one to faint next."

The sounds of a few people reacting come to my ears; apparently that damnable mage wasn't the only one in the room. He _is_ loud if he actually blocked out anyone else while I was in such a state. I keep my eyes closed as they start crowding around, hands placed to my forehead, against my throat and wrist...Thank the powers above for my uncle having taken me in as he did; it takes every bit of will I have to keep them out in the wake of those clinically well-meant gestures.

Damn Zemus for using me like that; damn him more for having taken all the barriers he'd crafted to keep his control with him. I flinch away from those hands, pressing the 'walls' back up as Fuso Ya had taught me...there...I can hear myself think again.

"I'm fine, so get away from me!" Fine enough I can barely lift my hand to swat them away, but at least I'm coherent, eh? I finally open my eyes to look up at the professionally concerned face of some doctor of sorts, her long hair bound to the first practical style I've seen in Troia since coming here. To the other side, the mage- ah, Palom, that was his name...is also leaning, glowering.

"What's that about? Me shut up- I wasn't saying anything!" Palom's fuming quickly silences, however. It dissolves into merest grumbles while the doctor is giving him a withering look that earns her a touch of respect more from me; then she's pressing her hand lightly to my shoulder as I try to sit up.

"No; stay down a while yet. You've been unconscious for almost a full day now." She's frowning at that, looking me over...no doubt she had noticed something wasn't quite 'right', eh? I had my doubts Cecil and his companions would have gone about reporting about people living in the Moon that left. He would have been a fool to end all fools to let that bit of knowledge out. You could only ask people to believe so much when the truth was so very strange.

"..I'll be fine...You can feel satisfied now, Palom; I just went through the same thing as that sister of yours." Backlash of some kind, that I'm sure of...it's the how of it that's puzzling me. I sit up despite the doctor's protests, feeling the room sway around me..."So did they get what they wanted?" That came out rather more sharply than I'd honestly intended...drawing a look from both the doctor and the mage.

"I will not claim to know what the sisters wanted of you, sir, but you are presently in Troian custody until it is otherwise declared." She's still frowning; a thoughtful look rather than any sort of pensive or pentulant one...that, it seems, is being reserved for the mage whose silence is now coming to a fast end.

"He's under _my_ custody, actually- and I want to know what's going on!" He crosses his arms at the doctor, all but daring her to challenge him. "As soon as he can move, I'm taking him back to Mysidia!" The doctor's lips thin as she starts formulating a response; I can all but hear the argument she's intending to silence the mage with weaving together in her mind.

"Ah, and how do you plan on that- flapping those robe sleeves until you take flight?" Damned if they were going to be allowed to talk over me. I push myself to my feet then, letting the room do its odd swaying dance around me. Once it steadies, I look down at the woman and mage both- it's startling, really...I never thought of myself as tall at any point in my life, but so far it seems I favored my father's blood in at least one obvious way. Every human I'd so far met was at least a head shorter than myself. "I asked you both a question and I would like an answer before I go about getting it myself. I did not come here to cause harm, but you seem intent on inspiring me _to_ it."

Palom steps back then, hands raising...the little fool is actually considering trying to fight me via magic? I spare a withering look for the boy before I look to the doctor again, dismissing him. I have my own ways to deal with the tricks he's likely to pull if he's willing to sink so low as to strike at my back. A frustrated growl informs me there's little enough to worry about there.

Hot headed and bad tempered, but still one of Cecil's companions to the core.

"With all due respect sir, you are in no position to be making demands." The doctor steps back a bit to level her own glare against mine. Silence ensues for a moment, then she's simply giving a disgusted sigh as she breaks it off and storms away. "The sisters will be here to discuss it with you shortly; you're hardly as recovered as you think so sit quietly and wait. You will get your answers then."

I keep my glare pinned to her as she goes; if they think for even one moment I'm going to remain here... I may have left this world once with the intention of finding a way to remove whatever darkness within me Zemus had found, but that did not mean I had to become everyone's doormat. Still, in my current shape, I found I could do little enough...just getting to my feet has been an act of more will than strength.

"For someone who was saying what happened to Porom was no big deal, you sure look like something off of Ordeals." That snide little remark brings my attention back to the mage; who's just looking me up and down a moment with a quizzical, smug demeanor. "Huh..." I don't need to be a telepath of any kind to know what he's thinking...the 'ol' tincan of darkness" couldn't be this pale, trembling person. His look is saying it all for me. I settle myself back down, willing my strength to start finding its way back to me.

"Backlash is survivable with minimal ease in most cases; that hardly makes it pleasant." Backlash...yes, I knew it for what it was but why had it even happened? I hadn't used any magic at all in that. Palom reclaims what I assume was his seat before I woke, arms crossing as he leans back in it, a little smirk crossing his face.

"So what's this dream they're all hung up about? You look pretty damned pale for a guy who's just got some 'backlash' and a few seconds of lousy napping on his brain." At the look I level at him, he shrugs nonchalantly, nodding to the room around them. "Guards everywhere so not like I can just haul you on back to Mysidia, y'know." Amazing; so he can display common sense... "Faster you tell 'em what they want to know, faster we both get out of here."

That's right..they had started to flat out bring that dream on me..but why? Or rather..they hadn't. The Crystal had. The last of the cobwebs clears away as I groan, understanding reaching me at last. The Crystals of the world were no different than those of the Moon; crafted by Lunarians they too could speak if so inclined, particularly to one with the blood of their own makers flowing in him.

"...Hey, you in there? Yoohoo Hey! Wake up!" The mage rises to his feet, reaching out to give my shoulder a shake. Pitiful; I'm weak and shaken enough after something like that he can actually do it? Perhaps the side effects of casting that spell to cross the distance between the Crystals is also starting to catch up with me. I knew I had had no protections such as the Road had enjoyed; and I had moved on rather quickly after a far from restful nap in Mysidia's holding cell...

_Give in, just this once; a warning was given to you to give to us..._ Not again; I can hear the Crystal of Earth chiming in the back of my mind under those words, undermining what little strength I have as the mage continues to shake me with a look of growing alarm. He's shouting now, bringing the doctor to the bedside once again...but the words mean nothing to me. My hearing is already faded to a mere echo, lost to the same void that's now swallowing my sight until its as if I watch this all from a great distance...

I'm saying something; I can feel my throat tensing with the words being drawn out, my lips shaping them before all sensation is lost into that nothingness...this is a place I know quite well, unlike that nightmare or the darkness I had traversed to get here. This was the place in which I had 'resided' while Zemus puppeteered me through my life; a place where I could only watch as I took actions I had little say in.

I don't want to be here; I'm not going to stay here and let someone do this to me again! I rail against the walls of this prison, all too aware that for all my strength, this place was every bit as strong. I'm screaming in a place no one can hear, letting words and intent dissolve to nothing but rage and fear...

"Hey! Calm down! OW! _Stop_- hey, I mean it- OW! Son of a- someone help me already!" My senses return in a sudden explosion of reality; the prison is gone, the world almost too bright, too loud after the return to that place. Several hands are pinning me down, however..and a rather battered Palom is picking himself up off the floor as I gasp for breath like a man near drowned. He scowls down at me as he tugs his robes straight, reaching a hand then to the bruise already starting along his jaw...

"You have some _serious_ problems, y'know that?"

--

To Be Continued in: A Matter of Perspective


	6. A Matter of Perspective

Author: Cyhirae

Note: A here we have the end of the Troia 'mini arc' I dropped out of the original version of this story. Readers of the previous version of Dark Moon will most certainly know who it is in the ending segment of this chapter; I ask that you please not give it away in any reviews you make. ;) Let the new readers figure it out on their own. That was half the fun of the original, wasn't it?

A somewhat shorter chapter this time around; this one was more of an end-segment clean up.

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A Matter of Perspective

It had finally become quiet within the doctor's wing of the Troian castle; now Palom was the one taking up the cot I had been making use of earlier as she tended to the injuries the idiot had taken in attempting to restrain me. Apparently it had never occured to him that it took strength to wear armor as much as it did to swing a sword. What had he honestly thought he could physically do against someone who had those sorts of reserves to call upon?

"And then you started saying all kinds of weird things; about ice everywhere and-" The doctor looks to be about as frustrated as I am annoyed; the boy won't shut up for even five minutes. I suppose I should count it lucky Troia was never known for mages...had they white mages, he would surely have already been up and pacing around the room, not just squirming around to stare at me while she sought to tend him.

"I am well aware what was coming out of my mouth, Palom." I was tired of this already; I hadn't come back to be drug into any of this. Not these dreams, not this situation- certainly not to repay even a brief visit to what I had once been, benevolent intentions on the behalf of that invading presence or no.

"So what _was_ that all about, huh? It sounds like that's what those sisters were wanting to know; they haven't bugged us since." The doctor finally grabs his jaw firmly, forcibly clamping his mouth shut as she applies the ointment to the side of it...a few bruises, a wrenched shoulder and twisted wrist. I have to wonder if he has any idea how lucky he was that was all he came away from. "Hey, lay off, will you?! I'm trying to-"

"Get yourself damaged further if you continue to harangue me about this." I must have put just enough venom in the tone to convince them I was serious; Palom's mouth starts to open again, only to get a bit of medical herb jammed in it quickly by the doctor. "If you truly must know, what you heard then was the Crystal itself. One would be wise to remember who crafted them; one would be equally wise to remember what those crafters could do. It is not so far fetched to think the Crystal could do the same."

Even as I say it, I have to wonder though. The Crystals of the Moon had never displayed such tendencies. They could 'speak', there was no doubt in my mind of that...but dominate a person's mind such as Zemus had once done to me, and I in turn had done to that dragoon? No...that did not seem in keeping with what the Crystals were. Yet what else could it have been? Zemus is long dead now..and even if that final, twisted hatred of his remained in some form...it would not have led me to speak warnings.

No, I know precisely what would have happened if he still lingered on in some form. Even Fuso Ya admitted he had left scars; ones that would never truly fade. If he lingered on, I would already be his puppet once more without my uncle's protection.

"That's a little freaky...the Crystal of Water never-" Why did she have to use such a thin leaf to silence him? Couldn't she have simply put a whole handful of them in his mouth? The doctor finally gives up her ministrations, throwing up her hands in silent surrender before gathering up her poultices and ointments to pack away. She'd seen fit to hold her silence since my little episode; evidently she figured it best to stay out of this affair.

Now if only that idiot mage would come to the same conclusion.

"The Crystal of Water also got little chance to see if it was particularly interested in the product of spell fatigue on the mind. I left rather quickly, or have you forgotten the means by which I did so?" That draws him up short; good. Reminding him of his sister's supposed danger seems to have derailed him for the time being. I didn't want to give any further thought to those particular events. I'd already be on my way if my strength were not being so slow to return.

"No, I _haven't_ forgotten! You better hope she's alright when we get back to Mysidia, because if she isn't-" I shrug slightly, letting the rest of the rant go on without my attention. Instead, I'm watching the guards by the doorway, set no doubt to ensure I stayed in place. It would be laughable if not for the fact the fatigue has refused to truly leave me...a worry in and of itself. Was it being made worse by the fact I had staved it off long enough to reclaim that spell's thread and come here by it?

There wasn't much I could do about it here in either instance. If it were a prolonged effect, I _would_ have to return to Mysidia. The only other place that employed white mages to the skill that could treat such things was Baron...and I would sooner face a life sentence in Mysidia than that. Cecil had never lain eyes on my face, but he knew my voice, my presence...I had no doubt he'd know me in an instant even without the armor.

We had said our good byes on the Moon...I had said my final ones when the Moon departed. I had no intention of undoing that if I could help it.

"Hey! Are you zoning out again?" I must have been for Palom to have gotten that close without me noticing; though he appears to be learning. This time he's made no move to try and shake me aware. ...Not that I could have done much right now without panic lending me strength. He had no need to know that fact if he was finally learning some caution.

"It is called 'thinking quietly'; you should try it sometime." the mage's arms cross with a huff, but whatever he was thinking to say finds reason to wait. The guards are suddenly opening the door in response to a quiet knock...and the same sister that had come to the inn of Troia is entering now. A guard is walking close behind her, laden with a pair of packs that she sets down against the wall at the sister's direction.

"Golbez, mage Palom of Mysidia-" The boy is giving a far from well hidden flinch at my name so casually being spoken. Perhaps he'd still been holding out hope that maybe I wasn't the 'ol' tin can of darkness', as he so politely dubs me in his thoughts? "We wish to make amends, particularly to you, Golbez, for the way things have proceeded. We never intended to bring about such a thing." She's frowning there; apparently that momentary 'possession' had sat no better with them than it had me. I suppose it wasn't every day it seems like your oh so sacred Crystal seems to be taking over people at will, eh?

"The Crystal has grown silent now that its warning has been given; it has said only one thing more before its silence became total. ...Your road from here leads not to Mysidia as this mage may wish, but still eastward, Golbez. These nightmares are not yours alone...though they seem kinder to you than the other who hears their call." She pauses then; if she is hoping for a reaction, she is not going to see any. I learned quickly enough on the Moon to school my expression...and I am doing so now with all of my might.

A not so subtle hint to go to Baron, that was. After I had just reaffirmed my every desire to go anywhere but there. When she makes it plain she is not going to continue unless I do give a response, it's Palom who suddenly pipes up from behind me.

"Wait...you mean what Cecil's been talking to the Elder about?" A vague hint of alarm is threaded through the mage's voice at that; he's looking first to me then to her, his previous ire seeming all but forgotten. For her part, she's simply letting a small frown settle to her lips...whatever Palom's speaking of, I don't need to eavesdrop on her thoughts to know his announcement was unwelcome. A bit piqued, perhaps, that their precious Crystal was not the first to know?

"..Perhaps so, Palom of Mysidia. As it stands, we have made preparations for your journey here on out." She's gesturing then to the packs, though I keep my lips pressed firmly shut, refusing any shift of expression. "They are not much, but they will see you northward to the forest of the Black Chocobos the Paladin-King discovered several years ago. You may make your way safely to Baron from there."

"Your...kindness is neither necessary nor wanted." With those words, I turn to make my way past those guards, who in turn make only a token effort at best to stop me. I did not ask for this, I did not want to be involved in it any further. Hadn't I lost enough of my life to being pushed down one road and then another? I'll be damned if I was going to be used like this again. If Cecil were having these dreams, let _him_ be the one to handle it- he had the allies here, not I. Hadn't they already proven they could defeat not only me but Zemus and his hatred as well?

Anything I could do about this situation, they could most certainly manage as well and with more success than I could alone. There was no reason to sacrifice my freedom to a path like this when I had only just started to truly taste it.

It is a short walk from the castle of Troia through a bit of forest to the town; but as I walk it, it seems to be growing somewhat farther away rather than nearer as I leave the castle behind. The forest as a whole seems oddly distorted, slipping by my vision as if it were made of water...

"You really are a weird sort of guy...I thought you really meant it when you just marched out!" I pause in my tracks at that, the forest slowly settling into proper form..and Troia is no where in sight around me. "So what changed your mind? You've been pretty damned quiet since then...Hey? Hello? Now what's going on?" The tone on the latter question is a bit perplexed...though I'd almost swear it's more to see there is a reaction of some kind as I turn first to look around myself...then back behind me. I hardly need to look to know who it is, yet I'm looking even so, hoping for some answer to that question of his myself...

Behind me, Palom is standing with both of the light packs the sister had brought slung over his shoulders...the hem of his robe stained with travel that had not been in evidence before. Several days worth of it, I would say...and a look to my own garb shows much the same evidence; stranger still when I realize it was not the same clothing I had worn on my arrival. Lunarian robes have been replaced with a more practical sort of garb for this; things that would not stand out so glaringly as those robes had.

"Uh...hey. Something wrong? You've gone paler than Cecil." The mage stares hard at me a moment, hand waving before my eyes. "You've been acting pretty out of it since then; what's going on _now_? Hello?" A repeated question, again the same one I'd rather dearly love an answer to...though another bears asking first.

"...Where are we..?" I can barely force the words out as I look around the heavy forests enshrouding us...I know the answer already, to be honest...only one forest on all the world is so heavy as this. Palom comes fully around to look me straight in the eye then, frowning sharply. He stands silent like that for a long moment, dropping the bags to regard me quizzically for a few moments. Finally he seems to decide I'm being perfectly serious, an odd little frown taking up residence in the face of that more severe one of a moment before.

"We're a few days north of Troia; we should be coming up on the chocobos soon. What, you suddenly lose your sense of direction or something?" From the tone, he's plenty well aware it's nothing so mundane as that. His words are sinking in like stones tossed into a muddy pond...Days. We were several days north of Troia...where to my mind, only moments had passed.

A few more days of my life gone with no say so or knowledge on my part, disappearing into the same abyss where the rest of my life had gone. I wanted no part in this; the more out of my control things became, the more certain of that I was... Yet it seems I still have little enough say in my own life. That had been more complete a claiming of my form and senses than Zemus had ever done...

Whomever was seeing fit to grab my strings and tug them about was either more skilled, more determined or just had a better means...I may never know at this rate. For now...it seemed I had little choice. If I tried to turn aside now and do as I wished, I'd likely find myself 'waking' right in the midst of Baron's courtyard or worse if this strange puppeteer so desired.

"...It's nothing; come. If the forest is so near as that, there's little point in stopping now." Some of the bitterness must have slipped into my words; the mage's face pinches into a strange look somewhere between confusion, frustration and maybe even a hint of concern. He hefts up the packs again, eying me for a long moment. Apparently I had been leading this little march up till now...how wonderful.

"..You may as well go ahead of me; I suspect you may know the way better than I do, Palom." The mage blinks a couple times in surprise at that...the frown becoming more pronounced before he turns to start forcing his way through the underbrush.

"You're just getting stranger by the minute...what the hell's _wrong_ with you?" Whether the question was a rhetorical one or not, I let it slide as such. It isn't as if I could answer it anyway; I know no more than he does about this. I find a rather ironic answer suddenly, however...slipping free of my lips before I can check it with a thin bit of laughter about it.

"What is 'wrong' with me depends entirely on your perspective of things, Palom. Now hurry it up; I don't care to see if I can recall how to build a camp."

--_Within the Dream--_

_A cloaked figure stands among the now frozen, silent forms of the sisters...hands withdrawing from the Crystal as the last of its light flickers out. It stands as silent as the corpses about it while the ruined Crystal crumbles into nothing more than shards and dust...worthless now. The last of its power had been spent to carry that message out and reach the one most open to it._

_The figure swiftly turns and departs the inner chambers of the castle of Troia, pausing briefly within the courtyard to duck deeper into the recesses of the heavy cloak..little enough good as it does against this vicious cold. The cowl turns upward then, one gloved hand grasping the edges to keep the growing winds from simply snatching it away..searching the skies high above the wasteland Troia had become._

_There in the sky; yes...there it was. Invisible but for the fact stars shone all around it to outline its presence..the Dark Moon. Already its winds were sweeping Troia now that the Crystal had failed, plucking bits and pieces off here and there. Soon there would be nothing left of this place; nothing left of this world, this reality, at all._

_The words of a spell tumble quickly from the cowl, whisking the figure away as those winds rise from a low moan to a steady roar. Troia was lost entirely now; there was nothing more to be gained by remaining. One could only hope that the other would carry out the task set to him after that particular push toward it. If he did not..._

_The slow devouring of Troia into the Dark Moon's heart spoke of the eventual fate clearly enough._

--

To Be Continued in: Interlude-Perspective


	7. Interlude II, Perspective

Author: Cyhirae

Note: For those new to Dark Moon, as I showed early in- every so often (usually after a story arc's completion or major event) I'll step out of Golbez's head and write from another character's point of view. These Interludes are just that; a step away from the plot briefly to give you a chance to see what the other characters are thinking and feeling. Golbez may occasionally pick up on their particularly loud thoughts during unguarded moments, but that's hardly a replacement for an indepth look.

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Interlude II: Perspective

_Palom_

It's been nothing but weird since the moment this guy turned up in Mysidia. Porom and I had both suspected who he was from the get go; there aren't all that many mages in the world that could pull off spells like that and live! And damned near all but one had been trained in Mysidia at some point in their lives. The Elder had told us to keep our suspicions quiet, however.

Porom was the one who had pointed out she thought it may have something to do with those weird dreams Cecil had come to the Elder about...another matter we were supposed to be keeping quiet. I should be damned glad she wasn't there to see me blurt that out in Troia; her smacks haven't gotten any gentler for all everyone always remarked on how sweet tempered she was.

...She had better be alright. I could have gone to see if she was myself by now...I still could, once we got to the chocobos. But just like back when we went off with Cecil to go to Baron...I had that feeling that I should stick with this guy.

"This guy" of course being Golbez; the ol' tincan of darkness himself. I really didn't know too much about him to be honest..I knew he sicced at least two Archfiends on Cecil; Porom and I wound up taking a pretty uncomfy nap as statues to save him from the last of those two being a sore loser. Then Golbez just suddenly fell off the face of the planet; pretty literally if that get up he turned up in was any indication. The only time I even saw him was after the Giant of Babel was defeated and that was from pretty far off. Him and some old guy Cecil said came from the red moon had taken off out of the ruins of the Giant like there was no tomorrow, disappearing into the Tower of Babel.

Good thing that old guy was with him if he wasn't the real bad guy after all; I know plenty of folks would have been more than happy to let loose a volley or ten when he went running out along the field in plain sight. I was sure as hell tempted.

Still, that was the last those of us who stayed down here saw or heard of the man who used Baron to make our world his personal battlefield for no reason that made sense to us. Cecil hadn't liked to talk about what happened in the Giant or up on the moon; once the moon left, that just seemed to put the nail on that coffin lid. He never talked about it ever again that me or Porom heard.

And now, here I am...following the man most of the known world thought or at least really hoped was dead. These past few days, I was starting to wonder if he wasn't at least brain dead on some levels. He sure as hell didn't make much _sense._ Who's ever heard of a mage with a grip like that? And to hear the stories, Golbez was definitely a mage through and through.

Hell, that fancy spell work he pulled with that weird get-around Crystal spell of his pretty much cinched it. You don't learn tricks like _that_ on a casual study. Rumor ran that he might even be a summoner but...you could only trust _that_ so far. The only summoner I've ever heard of was Rydia, another friend of Cecil's I hardly knew. I saw her out on that same battlefield I saw Golbez on, then later at Cecil's wedding...but past that? Not a sign of her; rumor had it she was living down in the Feymarch, the last summoner in existence for now. Possibly the last one ever if the village of Mist really took that bad of a beating.

Another thing this world owed to the guy I'm following around...who didn't even seem to know I still existed until about fifteen minutes ago. That was just weird beyond weird; he'd stormed off out of the castle after making it pretty plain he had no plans on going to Baron. So genius that I am, I grabbed the bags and chased after. What I didn't expect was to see him marching off in the woods in a northish direction after having just turned his nose up at a bunch of free supplies.

It just got weirder for a bit after there. Sometimes he seemed a bit with it; he didn't pay a lick of attention to _me_ per se, but he sure helped himself to the bags I'd drug along. He didn't seem to quite get what tents were for; the first night he slept outside. The second night I pushed him in- it was kind of freaky. At least he finally laid down and went to sleep- I don't think I could've put up with it if he'd sat there staring at nothing all night.

I kept talking to him of course; but I've had better conversations with brick walls. He wasn't anything like the guy that woke up in that cell and then took off for Troia; he was pretty mouthy and no little pleased with himself then.

He'd been pretty spooked after that little hush-hush meeting with those sisters, though. He'd just started shouting something about ice and stuff; pretty weird for the middle of summer. I slapped him out of it- any mage worth their salt knows a hysterical mage is just begging for trouble and that's usually a good way to bring them around. He'd been even mouthier after that, but now?

After that weird days long silence, he's still quiet but at least he's noticing things-like the fact I'm talking to him sometimes...and seems jumpy enough to make that Damcyan king look calm. Every little sound has him drawing up short for a second- and he's the one telling me to hurry! It'd be a hell of a lot easier to do that if he'd keep _up._

I have to saying I'm finding it real hard to believe this was the same guy who was supposedly commanding Archfiends and using Baron to take over the world. But absolutely nothing could have prepared me for what came next when we finally found the Black Chocobo Forest. He stops right at the edge and stares at the birds long and hard, like they were some sort of pack of freaks...then turns to me with a totally puzzled frown.

"..How exactly do you make use of these, anyway?"

...Where the hell has this guy _been_? Everyone knows how to ride a chocobo if they get as old as him! Of course, I have plenty of time to fix that assumption after nearly getting treed a few times due to him just ticking the birds off until I get it through to him just how you got them to listen to you.

I just didn't have the heart- or want to take the ego hit- to tell him I had no damned idea how exactly you rode a _black_ one while it flew, though. That was going to be a learning experience for both of us.

--

To Be Continued in: Fading Light


	8. Fading Light

Author: Cyhirae

Note: And now finally Cecil enters the story. I received some major protests to the treatment of him in the original Dark Moon; to that I would just like to remind folks that this story follows Golbez's perspective. Cecil isn't the protagonist this time around; and he and Golbez are not the best of buds for all they are no longer enemies. It also means you will see Cecil _as Golbez sees him_; not through the clear glass of third person or the rosy hues his friends tend to view him in.

--

Fading Light

I find myself pondering the mystery of how people could tolerate these strange birds, let alone raise them as we make our way into the skies over Troia...they were not the most pleasant smelling of things, and had certainly proven fairly ill tempered in our attempts to at least briefly tame two for our own use. Still, mine at least was docile enough after an initial testing of my patience. The jarring gait of its flaps leaves much to be desired...

A fact that fades from my mind at least briefly as I look down at the forest falling away from us.

I had known the taste of fear in Troia; now over it, I get my first real grasp of freedom- the headiness of having nothing but open sky and the world around you as far as the eye could see with no limits, no demands. The chocobo's wings spread out to let it soar on the winds for a time, letting me take in the scene as I will. I had seen this world from the Moon, of course...a small gem of blues and greens with swirls of white. It had been beautiful, but so remote and untouchable. It did not inspire the awe I feel now as the chocobo wings its way along.

I have a destination I should be guiding it to...but for now, I let the makeshift reins rest against its feathery neck and simply watch the world continue to unfold before me.

I had flown before, borne across the world to various kingdoms and destinations on a Redwing's airship for much of my work under Zemus' command...but I had never truly seen it. Focused as I was only on his goals, he had taken the beauty of it all from me. I had looked on these vistas and felt nothing; cared for nothing in them but that they were in my way. They had just been an annoyance keeping me from quickly reaching my destinations.

I had hated Zemus from the moment I was freed; I regret now that he had been slain so quickly by Fuso Ya and I. I hadn't even begun to grasp what it was he had taken from me all those years, what he had rendered me blind to.

And my experiences in these two cities of the world I had left behind made it plain I was far from forgotten. I had returned here, but to what end now? I was simply Golbez to these people; a man who had been intent on destroying the people of this world, even if it meant destroying the very thing I now admired. Zemus had taken more than a few decades of my life in what he had done.

He had taken away any future I may have honestly enjoyed with either people. I was free, yet to no end...they would never let me be anything other than what they had known.

Perhaps it's good fortune after all that Palom had chosen not to give up his determined 'custody' of me. A steady stream of cursing on the wind breaks into those thoughts suddenly as my chocobo squawks with indigence, wings suddenly flapping again as it comes out of its easy flight...Mostly to avoid its fellow, who is zig zagging through the air with a snarling mage clinging to it, jerking hard on his reins first this way and that to try to get the bird to obey him.

"Loosen the rein, Palom- if you're hurting it, it won't be inclined to listen to you." That much was plain enough from my own, I should think...I've hardly touched my reins since that line of thought and realization began...but with the crisis past, it has settled back into its steady soaring.

"When did you suddenly become a chocobo expert, huh?! You couldn't even catch one!" The mage continues his furious struggles with the bird, drawing a series of angry squawks and hisses. I sigh a moment, closing my eyes as I start to reach out to simply urge the bird to settle and give the mage no cause for his yanking. And the 'feeling' of that inner prison looms up suddenly...not threatening to engulf me, however.

This is the reality of what I was about to do. Even though it is an animal, it still has no right to be caged in such a way. I shudder back from that, snapping myself from the half trance I'd sunk into while seeking to isolate the bird's mind. Even for a short time, nothing should ever have to see the world as I had then.

"Do you see me fighting mine? Loosen the rein and let it settle...then just tug here and there when you want it to turn." It seemed so elementary once you were actually doing it.

_See, Theodore? If you don't hurt it, it won't spook and scare you by charging off. Just be gentle with it..loosen the rein and let it settle, then just use a tug here and there to turn. Aha! See? Didn't that work out so much better? _A sudden surge of memory there, unburied abruptly...a flash of a much smaller pair of hands holding reins resting against a neck coated in yellow feathers rather than black... And father walking alongside, telling me how to use the reins to guide the bird. _You're traveling together, so treat it nicely and it will be nice in return. They're not very brave, though. If it starts to run, just hold on tight- it will take you somewhere safe!_

Ahead of me, Palom has finally heeded the advice I had parroted without even realizing it...his bird finally settling into an easier flight with a few more grumbling squawks. Palom eyes the bird a long moment, then tosses me a triumphant smirk as my chocobo draws even with them.

"Got it! So...which way _is_ Baron from here?" He looks this way and that for a moment, scanning the ground for some landmarks I suppose, though how he thinks to recognize any from up here...

"...We go south east for a time. We should not take these birds over the water for long." Who knew how much stamina they had? But I do remember that yellow chocobo, from so long ago. It had run tirelessly for hours...could a flying chocobo do the same? I'd not mind seeing it for myself one day, but not while on one's back. "We can stay over forest for most of it but if this is as high as these chocobo go, we would never make it over the mountains."

And so we turn our birds along the described path; letting the world roll away under us in an array of blues, greens and browns. If I somehow find a way to live on this world after all, perhaps I should see if I could not tame one of these permanently. It's far more relaxing than the wild gusts one gets upon an airship and lacking the noise of the engines.

--

Nearly a day and a half later, we descend into the Chocobo Forest near Baron. Both birds are plainly eager to rest; Palom is equally eager to be off his as well, it would seem. Though they seem to have come to a truce in their journey, it's rather plain neither chocobo nor mage were going to miss one another's company. His quickly departs our presence to go find a nice bit of cool shadow to rest in, wings drooping considerably.

"If I remember what Cecil said about these once, they'll go back on their own eventually if we don't come back for them." Palom simply eyes the bird that's glaring at him right back with a borderline ferocity I hadn't thought these creatures capable of. "Bet he was just as glad to see them go!"

"Odd; as loud as you both were, you'd think the two of you would have gotten along wonderfully." I let the mage seethe a moment as I turn to my own chocobo...who is looking rather longingly off to the same patch of shadow Palom's went, though it remains near me for the moment, just eying me musingly. I ruffle its feathers lightly, stepping away to look to its yellow feathered cousins...offering a bit of appreciation to the bestial mind of the bird. It startles slightly, head tilting first one way and then the other before giving an odd little squawk. Then it's off to settle where the other went, looking like nothing so much as a ball of fluff as it first huffs and ruffles its feathers up...then ducks its head beneath its wing to rest.

"Now then; one more ride and then we see what Baron has waiting to spring on us." I set about securing my own yellow chocobo; Palom had gotten one of those easily enough, at least. The mage is being uncharacteristically quiet, however...just watching where the two black chocobo had taken their rest. "...And what is it now?"

"...What did you do to the chocobo?" He's simply eyeing me a long moment, a frown on his lips as he all but paints his suspicion on his face. For a moment, I can feel a flash of irritation at the unspoken accusation. Does it matter I nearly had done such, to his uncooperative beast? The long and the short of it was I hadn't. Then I have to shake my head, a smirk rising unbidden as he glares threateningly down at me. "You didn't go messing with its head, did you?"

"Of course I did, Palom." So saying as I mount the fluffy yellow beast I'd acquired. "As soon as we are gone, that black chocobo will begin a reign of terror unlike any other upon this world simply because I have nothing better to do and it is just that incredibly powerful and dangerous." As if understanding it was being spoken of, the chocobo in question raises its head with a sleepy, somewhat annoyed _kweh_, then shakes its head and tucks it back under its wing while Palom gets a most peculiar look of caution warring with skepticism all at once. "Now if you're through wondering what nefarious ends I could use a chocobo for- all I did was thank it."

We begin our way northward then, Palom giving me a withering look that might one day be worthy of fear if he should live that long...for now, it does little more than make him seem a sulky teenager. By the time we're half way to the castle, I'm starting to wish he were sulking. Without the rush of wind to carry his voice away, he had apparently decided it was time for a game of twenty questions.

"So where have you been all this time? Why did you come back now? You know it's freaky to talk in people's heads, right? Can you hear what I'm thinking all the time?" On and on they went, with a mix of boasts of his own accomplishments in Black magic; I have new respect for my brother's patience. If this is him as a teenager, what must he have been like as a child? I keep my answers largely noncommittal; he seems happy enough to carry the bulk of the conversation on his own.

Eventually, however, the conversation runs down as the castle looms up. He has hardly run out of things to say...but I think it's plain enough to him my attention is for the structure now drawing close almost uncomfortably fast. I could hardly forget this place- how long had I ruled it through Cagnazzo? Still, the closer we get it is not so much the past as the present that has my attention centered to it.

The gates of the castle stand closed, locked tightly against the world as grim faced soldiers stand warily at their posts, watching our approach. The castle is silent; there isn't even the constant clanging of airships being worked on or soldiers in training. That was a familiar enough state to me; but one I knew to be wrong. Cecil may not let them slack in their discipline but he was hardly one to demand this kind of of rigid quiet from his soldiers, his fortress.

And perhaps most importantly; I can barely sense Cecil here at all. Oh he's there, somewhere in the castle confines...but it's such a weak, wavering presence compared to what he had displayed upon the Moon. He had been almost blindingly bright then to such senses; wearing the brilliance of his soul as an armor in its own right. Now...the presence was almost impossible to sense...it was like the fading light of day, disappearing inevitably into night.

"Halt! Identify yourselves." The guards drop their spears into a cross to bar our way; ridiculous enough. If we could get by the gates, spears certainly wouldn't be enough to stop us. Still, this was a part of the journey I hadn't quite found an answer to. "Speak or be on your way!"

"We're here to see King Cecil!" Palom urges his chocobo forward a bit then. "I'm Palom of Mysidia; this is..." Apparently he hadn't given much thought to this part of the situation either. The guard frowns in suspicion as he looks past the mage to myself; Palom might be known here...but it takes no imagination to know what will happen if I happen to strike a bit of recognition, eh?

"...Theodore Ya." The guards exchange looks at that name; I'm not even positive it would be correct. But what was I supposed to do? Declare myself Golbez and watch the panicked and violent reactions begin? "I am traveling from Troia at their request on a matter of some concern to the attendants of the Earth Crystal." There, not a lie, exactly...But the doubt is plain to see. The name is odd enough; but a _man_ from Troia?

"He's telling the truth; we need to see King Cecil as soon as we can!" Palom sounds rather annoyed, starting his bird forward again...only to have it go dancing back as the guards scowl, spears warning him off quickly enough. "Hey! What's the big idea?!"

"The King is not taking visitors at present. Be on your way to the town; we will send word when and if the King wishes to receive you." Well, plain enough that something is very wrong here. I could not see Cecil barring Baron's gate in anything short of a time of war to petitioners. And for even one of his former companions to be turned away... I nod acceptance to the guards, turning my chocobo away.

"Very well. Give me a moment to discuss matters with the mage and then we will continue on." Taking the unsubtle hint, Palom turns to follow me, arms crossed as his chocobo paces placidly alongside my own.

"You're giving up awfully easy; you're going to just back off like that? Where'd you come up with that name, anyway? _Theodore_? That's the best you could come up with?" He's sounding nothing short of irate; I hardly need to have my father's blood to know the undercurrent to it, however. This hardly sat any better with him than it did with me, I'm sure. Perhaps even less so...He and Cecil were on good terms, I'd assume.

"Theodore happens to be the name I was given at birth. And I am not giving up; it is simply ill advised to do this where they could see I wasn't talking to you." While he's struggling with that little announcement, I'm closing my eyes and letting my thoughts reach out...the mood of the castle in general is nearly enough to send me reeling back to my own self. So much worry, so little hope to alleviate it...There! A mind not so irate and full of fear; it is far too weary to be such...

_Cecil? Can you hear me?_ If he were asleep, I doubted he would be able to in this condition. I wait a moment, pondering...when it seems there is going to be no reaction, I start to withdraw my touch. An answer comes suddenly, however, a whisper against my thoughts.

_Golbez..? Why are you..._ So very weak; I would think him as far away as the remaining moon for such a weak whisper...and growing quieter with each word. This was not going to work for a long conversation.

_Never mind that; send a messenger to your guardsmen to call Palom and...Theodore inside. We need to speak and I can barely hear you now._ I wait then for a response..a 'yes' or some other confirmation...but no such thing comes. Perhaps his strength gave out...perhaps he did not hear me at all. Palom is watching me with the same wary look he'd worn in the chocobo forest as I open my eyes to look to the gates. Perhaps he thought I was going to simply try to force my way in?

"What were you- eh?" The gates suddenly creak loudly, the guards startling and stepping forward to look. In the gate...Rosa stands, resplendent in a simple but elegant robe of ivory and silver; every inch both the queen and white mage she was...though her expression is far from serene or certain as she looks out toward Palom and myself. "Rosa! Great- you can get us in, right? We really need to-"

"...Cecil is asking for you Palom..and your..companion, Theodore." The entire time she was talking, her eyes were not on the relieved black mage's visage...but rather, resting firmly on my face as she frowns. I would hardly be surprised if she recognized me, even without the armor. Beyond the dragoon, she more than any of those who had fought me had spent plenty of time in my presence.

"Thank you, your highness." We dismount our chocobos as the baffled guards look on; no doubt wondering how such a missive could have even gotten to the king when they'd plainly had little to no intention of passing it on. Rosa leads the way silently into the castle; even Palom's attempts at engaging her in conversation end quickly as the pall of the fortress settles on us. Whatever was at work here, it had these people no little afraid...for themselves as much as their king, it would seem.

"Rosa..is Cecil still having those dreams?" Palom keeps his voice low, but in this dead silent place, it sounds almost a shout, earning a warning look from Rosa as her gaze shoots briefly to me. "It's all right; he knows about them already." Rather tactful of him to avoid the fact I know because he has a mouth roughly the size of the bay the Lunar Whale sleeps in.

"Yes...the dreams continue to come, Palom. He has had very little rest these past few weeks..." There is more she is plainly not telling us; things Palom himself may be aware of, though given his own uneasy looks about the castle, I have my doubts. "We will speak of it more after you have spoken with Cecil." A firm 'be quiet' if ever I've heard one; even Palom fails to miss that one.

The queen guides us up the tower to the north-west; here, the pall lies even thicker. Several white mages reside on one of the floors we pass through, going over books and mixing various draughts. They barely even give us a look, so intent on their work they are...but it seems more going through the motions, to me, than to an end they think will obtain them anything. Their motions are lax, mechanical...there's no fevered effort or determination.

Even with all of these signs to warn us as we ascend, I find myself by no means prepared when Rosa leads us into the king's chamber. Palom is stopping short alongside me; our expressions must be mirror perfect, I think...

For that pale, withered form resting on bed bears little resemblance to the paladin who stood alongside his allies as they battled Zeromus. He looks more a wraith than anything; worn thin and weak by some ill that leaves his skin far too pale for even our heritage. He seems asleep on the bed, but Rosa barely has a chance to call out to him before his eyes are opening.

They are perhaps the only thing about him that retains their old luster; a sight that somehow makes what lies before us all the more horrifying in a way. The spirit is hardly failing; it is only the body that is doing so for all of Cecil's plain determination not to succumb. Rather than giving hope, however..it feels almost like watching some poor soul at sea, swimming madly for land they will never reach.

"...Golbez...I thought for certain...you would never come." Relief is all through that tone, while Rosa's eyes are simply widening in shock and unease both as I start forward to the king's bedside. Any attempts by us to interrupt him, however, earn a weak wave of a trembling hand he can barely lift..eyes turning to Rosa and Palom then. "...Rosa...Palom...please let us...ngh...talk alone for now..."

Rosa looks sure to argue a moment; Palom certainly does...but a look to her husband has her turning swiftly, catching the mage by the arm. Ignoring protests of "Hey! I need to talk to him too!" and "C'mon, I came all this way-!", she pulls him to the chamber below, the door closing firmly behind her. Cecil just looks at me for a long moment...hand eventually making a passing gesture to the chair beside the bed.

"...Please..sit...we don't have..much time..." He waits until I have settled beside him, my own gaze traveling over him with no little unease. It occurs to me now that in my time as Zemus' puppet...I had noticed little of the ills that could take a person, what they could do to them. Seeing Cecil laid so low without a wound in sight...it's simply unnatural...so very out of keeping with the powerful warrior I had found him to be before. He lets me watch a moment longer, then silently reaches out one withered hand to me, though revulsion keeps me from taking it as I assume one would expect me to.

"Cecil, what the hell happ-" My words catch in my throat as that hand lands against my arm; it feels like an icy claw rather than any human hand, even through the thick sleeves I wear...but I have little enough time to consider that. That touch brings more than cold in its wake; the room is suddenly spiraling away from me, swallowed in the now uncomfortably familiar darkness. I can still feel his hand, however- something I now desperately grasp as I fall.

Then the darkness takes me in truth, washing my awareness away as it becomes complete.

--

To Be Continued in: A Stained and Shattered Mirror


	9. A Stained and Shattered Mirror

Author: Cyhirae

Note: First up, I want to apologize for the long, long wait on this chapter. For those not aware of my other works, I've been hard at work on a fully original story I have every intention of publishing (once I finish it and think of a better name). So for readers of Dark Moon: Thank you for your support and please have patience with me. :) Writing an original story tends to take quite a bit out of a person so other projects sometimes get a bit neglected. Typing long chapters is hard on the hands and wrists as well so bear with me on the long breaks.

If this chapter seems a bit odd and disjointed: I assure you, it was perfectly intentional. And Palom's dislike of Golbez's birth name is also my way of poking a bit of fun at people really hating it. Seriously now; Theodore is _not_ that bad of name.

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A Stained and Shattered Mirror

When sight and sensation return to me...it is hardly to any improvement in my situation. Gone is the room of the too-frail king of Baron; he himself appears to have vanished in turn though I slowly realize there is something to be sensed beyond just unending darkness. Though this place is as cold as any other part of the nightmares that have plagued me as of late...it is a distant, dull sort. It does not quite belong to me, it seems. And the longer I stand here, the more I realize there are things to see...they are slowly becoming visible, as if they had always been there. My 'eyes', as it were, simply needed time to adjust.

It is some peculiarly crowded room I find myself in; a place where the weapons and armament of a warrior sits side by side with the scattered belongings of a child. What commands my attention most, however, is the seeming window set to the far end of the room. I sidle closer, watching the play of light and shadow through its colored panes as I draw near.

Yet, it is no look outside to some landscape or another this provides. Beyond this bit of stained glass, another room lies...though despite the cracks and outright missing panes here and there...my hand cannot pass through into that room or find some other latch to the window. A fire can be seen beyond it, blazing bright and warm in a heavy stone hearth. It takes me a moment, at this odd angle, to realize what place I am beholding...

The throne room of Baron; lacking a sheen of ice in its own right over all things, though tendrils of ice can be seen having slipped beneath the door and starting along the walls. The fire seems to be keeping them at bay for the most part; I have to wonder how long that would last.

Before that fire, two figures are easily visible, with a third tucked into a shadowed corner. One I had come to half expect after this; Cecil stands in the room beyond this strange window, looking every inch the warrior he had been before this strange illness. He bears his sword and armor, though for now he keeps the sword resting point first in the ground, hand upon the hilt. It is the other figure that catches me by surprise and bids me to wonder if I am seeing a genuine dream over that icy nightmare.

For I am also in that room, standing before the fire place and facing him, though his appearance is enough to draw me up short. This was Golbez as Cecil had known him all that time...clad in dark armor that was lacking only the helmet. What startles me is the fact he should know the face beneath it so well. He saw me just now, yes...but this Golbez and myself have so very little in common now. I have let my hair grow out from that rough, short cut this one sports...I had barely known this face, myself. So how could Cecil know it so well it stood in his dreams?

"You've returned rather quickly this time." Even the voice...it lacks the tones I had spoken in then, when I had been little more than Zemus' mouthpiece. Everything about this phantom is inconsistent...It is and it isn't the me Cecil knew; and in either direction, too well envisioned to be inspired by some fever dream. "Why are you coming back now? You're worthless to me, to everything I work toward here!"

Cecil stands resolute; odd that I am behind him and yet can see through him, it seems, to the figure beyond. Dreams ever craft their own rules, I suppose. Solid to my eyes and yet not, the paladin shakes his head slightly, a frown creasing his lips.

"I cannot give aid when you will not even tell me what is needed. If you have come to me for aid, why do you lash out at me? This accomplishes nothing!" The other me smirks at that, shaking his head slowly from side to side, as if so very amazed to know Cecil could be so slow. He walks away from the paladin, putting his hands out before the fire as if to warm them...though soon enough he's whirling back, throwing a handful of flame taken from the fire at him. The paladin raises his shield quickly to intercept, a frustrated sound rising from his lips.

"Why do you persist in this, Golbez? What is there to be done if all you can do is rail at me like this?" Cecil makes no move toward the dark armored figment; he merely stands his ground, resolute as he has ever been. Proof enough this cannot be the me of that time; I would have already done away with him in such a situation as this. Cecil was by no means weak...but he was never the one who could truly stand alone.

His darkest moments were ever ones like this, where it was him alone against some enemy he did not know how to face.

"Again and again, I've told you what needs to be done - and what do you do? Nothing!" The tone is a borderline snarl from this other me as he whirls to stalk away from the fire, looking instead to the frozen doors just beyond. The sound of his steps fails to drown out a steady creaking I am becoming more aware of; the crawling of ice over wood and stone.

This place did not have much time before the scene I had beheld in that nightmarish Troia came to pass here. That was it then; it was not anger that was driving this other me. It was fear; a very real and understandable fear.

"Then tell me again; tell me until I understand, Golbez." Cecil's tone is a forced sort of calm as he turns his hands to rest on his sword's hilt, shield laid against him again. "Your efforts here are hindering me as much as you claim I am hindering you. Why do you bring me here if you cannot make yourself understood?"

"Damn you, Cecil!" That other me looks quite ready to simply throw the Paladin aside as he returns to the fire; but then he sighs, taking a deep breath as if to try to explain something to a particularly slow child. "You need to undo the mistakes that set this in motion; you have to find them before it all fades into nothing! You are running out of time; this place is not going to last much longer. Your waking world is the last one."

"You're still making little enough sense in that regard, Golbez." But there is a glance aside from Cecil then; toward me, beyond that window pane. And that alone is enough to make this other me pause, following Cecil's glance away. He frowns for a moment, stepping away from the Paladin and toward that window, even as Cecil steps back to intercept him. "Is there nothing else you can tell me? What were these mistakes; why can't you simply tell me?"

"...Heheh...It's difficult to tell what even I couldn't learn...I came here rather late in the game, as it were..." That is a distracted murmur from this other me as stops before the 'window', shrugging Cecil aside as he studies it. Can he see me in here? Where _is_ here? "But you have been given time, if you will simply look in the right- ...oh you damned _fool_!"

As this other me all but roars that out, our eyes meet and hold...he can see me, plain as day. And for whatever reason, my presence here seems one he heavily objects to. He turns quickly, inexplicably to the door, eyes wild. The ice has been steadily forming a coat about the inside of it since the duration of this conversation...something I find myself suspecting as unexpected by that look.

"Damn you; you're going to see me dead with this idiocy!" The Golbez of that frozen room draws back fully from the window, dragging Cecil with him forcibly as he all but shakes him by the shoulders, fingers digging in fit to dent the metal of the pauldrons the Paladin wears. "Leave! Never do this again! Never bring _him_ here with you! You've ruined it- the seal is gone! It will take a miracle to restore it in time... Get out, get out!"

In that shadowed corner, the cloaked figure rises and makes a sharp gesture; if this is how my own entrances and exits to this strange dream realm have gone, I have a new sense of pity for myself. Cecil is reeling back from that Golbez as if struck, falling to the floor with the apparent force of it. The form shatters then, letting fragments of the Paladin simply dissolve into the air...

And more disturbing yet is the dissolution of the other me, even as the window suddenly begins to darken. Like a puppet now discarded, he simply topples to the ground. All that remains as he strikes the floor himself is the armor, tumbling away and now empty of any form before it also fades. The window then shatters; proving it was no window at all in this strange place but a mirror set within a wide frame, scattering its pieces at my feet and leaving me no recourse for leaving this strange room I find myself in.

A room now also growing steadily darker, more stifling as sight fades...

"Not you too! Hey, wake up, Go- Theodore! Snap out of it! Aw, man...well...here goes. Heal me if he gets mad..." That sudden burst of chatter comes with another sort of burst...Pain. Someone striking me, repeatedly. It fades quickly at first, but each renewal lasts longer, casting me a guideline in this dark place to follow. I scramble after it, reaching desperately for that misplaced gleam of reality.

"Come on; you aren't _that_ weak, are you?" Another blow; another yank on the line that draws me out of that strange morass. "Wake up!"

"...If you strike me again...Palom...you will need..that healing." I cannot yet see...but I can sense myself again, settling about my mind like a comfortable pair of old clothes; my tongue feels thick and my mouth and throat parched while every last muscle and bone within me aches in ways I didn't think possible...but that strange place is being left well behind now.

And I find myself regretting hearing as having returned; for Palom is letting out a victorious whoop I would gleefully shatter his head for. It certainly came close to shattering mine after all of that.

"What the hell happened in there, G- ...Theodore?" That name leaves his lips with a bit of an annoyed sound; I suppose he still hasn't resigned himself to the fact that I was born with that mundane of a name. Heh. "Cecil suddenly started shouting and you wouldn't wake up for anything! We've been trying to wake you up for days!"

Days? That 'dream' had only been moments long to me...but every limb, leaden with oversleep that brought no rest, attests to the truth of Palom's words. I finally open my eyes, flinching at the brightness of the room beyond...no longer Cecil's room. I would have to say this is the infirmary, given the number of White Mages leaning over me along with Palom.

"You really shouldn't have done that!" That is from one of the mages toward Palom; who in turn is paying her hardly any mind as they attempt to herd him away. A Black Mage in a nest of White Mages; it's almost amusing to see.

"It is what had to be done." My own voice is sounding horrible once more; I had just finally gotten over my last ill advised ordeal of returning here and then dealing with that dream...now here I am, nearly an invalid. I can see why Cecil looks nearly dead if he has been enduring these dreams so much longer. The Mages frown while Palom simply beams proudly; I have little energy for dealing with any of them right now, however. "Leave...I need some genuine rest...Palom?"

"Eh? What?" That pleased look had started to fade with that dismissal; now he's simply peering down at me quizzically, arms crossed.

"...I need you to go to Mysidia; bring back any books pertaining to ancient myths." Cecil may have tried this once already; I honestly had no idea how scholarly my brother might be. I was willing to wager a bet he would not have had much of an idea where to begin, however. "There isn't...much time." That other me had been adamant about that; though I could certainly understand his- my?- frustration and Cecil's in turn.

This other me was pressed for time in the face of a crisis he didn't seem able to adequately explain. What was it he had said... 'I came rather late in the game'? I close my eyes, ignoring the stream of questions both Palom and the mages are throwing at me; real sleep is enfolding me in its hold: deep and welcomingly dreamless.

--

To Be Continued in: Forgotten Tales


	10. Forgotten Tales

Author: Cyhirae

Note: Yes, I know; it's been a long time since I updated; bad me. No worries, the story has not and will not be abandoned; unlike my other long running fanfic, this one doesn't require cross-referencing half a dozen resources to keep it relatively true to source. Between health issues and a few other little problems, my muse has been fairly well dead for a month or more- she only recently came back to help me get a couple unrelated one shots written. So, time to see if I can get back on Dark Moon's track.

I think this part is shorter than the previous installments; sorry about that. ^^;

And offhandedly; yes, what Golbez/Theodore does in this chapter is going to come back and bite him something fierce later on. Just not in this story; I'm keeping it in mind to leave viable room _for _a sequel this time.

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Forgotten Tales

The next several days are a flurry of activity throughout the castle; books carried in and departing in swift procession as I scour them from cover to cover for some clue of what this 'mistake' had been. One great enough to cause something that could devour an entire world with ice -and I could only accept that this other world was somehow just as real as my own; to do otherwise was to falter in my tracks -one could certainly think this would rate mentioning in some ancient tale.

Yet I find one fatal flaw in all of my studies. This world has ever been obsessed with the Crystals that offered control over the elements that govern it in turn. Tales that may involve other things are few and far between now; and yet, it is those I suspect I am to look toward. The Crystals had been a victim of that ice as well, from what I had seen in Troia; as powerless as those who looked to them to stop the ice.

All around me, mages both Baronian and Mysidian have been buzzing about the infirmary turned library, paging through books as well and actively comparing what they thought potential leads. Always with the same results, however. Somehow, it always returns to the Crystals or the tale is incomplete, some fragment from an unknown era. Attempts to rebuild those tales through the cross referencing provides possible but unsteady versions of the tales...and still so heavily holed, they do me little good.

If only I still had access to the Moon's library...their documents relied on things other than parchment that would rot or fade over the ages. Surely they would have known something about a power so strong as this.

For the time being, however...the infirmary holds only myself and a single white mage half dozing at her post by the door. Night holds the castle firm in its grasp; I suspect I am perhaps the only one awake. Cecil's strength has not returned to let him aid me in this research...and I find my own returning with noticable slowness. Each step into that dream weakens us more and more, though we have not set foot into it again since the last time.

At least I was no longer feeling frozen; the infirmary is almost sweltering. I have to handle the documents carefully now, lest the sweat from my hands make them illegible. Even so, I welcome this to the cold....

My hands pause amid the rearranging of some of those books as I look to one such sweating hand...then cast about the infirmary. It was night, and not the height of summer. Though there was indeed a fire set in the hearth, it was hardly a roaring blaze; the little candle burning by my bed as the sole source of light to read by certainly could not be providing such heat.

"...How long did you intend to wait until I noticed, Rubicante?" The words are little better than a murmur, a glance spared for the mage at the door. She's all but slumped over the desk now, lulled into sleep by the slowly increasing heat. I wait a moment for some reply; I'm half guessing, honestly. Supposedly twice defeated, the Archfiends were not something close to human; if they ever had been, those days were long behind them.

It was foolishness to think they could be gotten rid of so easily.

"I had begun to wonder if you would, Golbez." The flames of the hearth begin to twist and reform themselves somewhat, though true definition remains lost to the 'form'. The price for defeat this was; the loss of a true body for a time with which to influence the world. More important, however, was the noted lack of 'master' before the name he gave me.

"I did not expect you to wish anything further to do with me; something I suspect I was not wrong in thinking." I close the book that rests in my lap and set it aside as I lean back in the bed, watching the flame 'figure' that hovers just outside of the hearth. I see no indication any of the others are here...but that meant little enough. Where Rubicante directed them, the others would go. "So why do you come here now?"

If fire could be said to smile, that impression is certainly rising from the flames beyond; they twist about themselves and reform into something a bit more human like, though still lacking any truly defining feature. Even in this diminished form, the power this particular Archfiend had to call upon was one best handled carefully; he hardly required strength to set a room full of linens aflame.

"Still ever to the point; far more your way of being than that of Zemus." The implications of that settle on me uneasily; I had since absolved myself of any of the wrong doings I had done as Zemus' pawn. Those words cast a slightly different light on my assumptions...ones I would rather not pursue. Just how much ohf what I had done was my interpretation of what he wished; my ideas fuled by his thoughts? An unpleasant prospect, however one looked at it. Rubicante waits patiently as I mull over those thoughts, then speaks again as my gaze returns to him, a thread of humor twining about his words. "Something for you to think on, was it? It was an observation, little more."

"Then kindly mimic my behavior and get to the point." That came out more snapped than I'd intended; in the silence that follows, there's a certain sense of satisfaction from the fire hovering at the foot of my sick bed. A point to him then in this little game. He had plainly wished to get a rise out of me and done so quite well.

"As you wish, then. I came only to offer some insight I think may do you well. However, you know nothing is given freely." Now we are in familiar -and dangerous- territory. When I had been Zemus' catspaw, I had been able to make plenty of offers for the aid of the Archfiends; what did I have to offer now? "Shall we agree to an exchange, Golbez?"

"I do not go by that name any longer, Rubicante." His insisting on it is starting to grate at me; it's intentional and I know it, but that does nothing for keeping it from getting under my skin. He may be the 'honorable' Archfiend, but one would do well to recall Rubicante's sense of honor was very much his own. It did not prevent him from being dangerous or attempting to get the upper hand in any arrangement. "What would you ask for this aid, Archfiend?"

"Then who are you? Have you decided, or is the name you call on now nothing but another mask to hide behind?" The words are not taunting, at least. The tone is that of an honest question...and one I've certainly spent some thought to when not buried in books and scrolls. "Once you asked for my oath on behalf of Zemus; I now ask for an oath of you. The precise terms shall remain unsaid for now, we shall see what becomes of the ends you use what I have to offer. Are we agreed?"

Every inch of common sense is urging me toward refusal; an open ended deal with an Archfiend is far from wise. I tap my fingers on the book at hand, frowning down at it...I have little doubt Rubicante would know something of value. The Archfiends were timeless beings, so far as I could tell...the names and even the forms they may wear altered at times, but there was always something of them in the histories.

Sometimes as little more than a myth, but still they were there.

"...Speak your piece, then. I am in no position to argue the point." Whatever this oath was to be, I would deal with it when it came. For now, I had a choice between dying in my sleep by freezing or fading away as Cecil now was.

"...Far wiser than your brother. Heheh.." The low chuckle echoes about the room, stirring the mage briefly in her sleep. A whispered spell is enough to set her back into it, however; even in this state, I'm fully capable of that much. "Then here is what you must do: go to Mount Ordeals and query your father not about the source of this...but of the turning point in this world's past. You will not find the answer in these tales; the history that your needed clue resides in is lost to human kind. Use that as you will and come to my realm one year after this has ended; I will have your oath then."

The little form of flame flickers out from sight, leaving only a lingering heat to keep the chill of that frozen dream at bay; a pity it's doing little enough to set me at ease. I've no doubt agreed to something I will have cause to regret- but if I cannot even survive this fiasco, that will hardly be a concern of mine, eh? I push the covers aside and pull myself from the bed, carefully setting the book on another stack as I proceed to ready myself to leave.

It is a faint clue, but more than I had to work with before. A history no human could know, a turning point rather than a source. That made it plain enough only an Archfiend or a Lunarian could have the knowledge I sought; and whatever the oath I had to offer, it wasn't worth enough for Rubicante to provide me with the exact details.

He had certainly given me the right question to put to Klu Ya, however. If he were still there, at any rate...Cecil had said nothing of his presence persisting once he had inherited our father's sword. I could not see Rubicante deliberately leading me astray in such a fashion, however...deception of that sort was far more Cagnazzo's game than his.

I settle the last of my belongings into place; thankfully the clothes I had somehow acquired in Troia were kept in here as well. There was little in the way of supplies, but I would solve that in Mysidia, I suppose. Mages kept odd hours; the shops there would surely be open, even so late at night as this...if it were not already dawn there. I slip past the mage and start down the stairs- then find myself going down them far more quickly than intended as my foot catches on something sitting on the stair in the darkness, sending both myself and it tumbling down to the next floor in an ungainly pile of cloth and muffled yelps.

Certainly not _my_ yelps, either.

"Palom? What were you doing on the _stairs_?" I untangle myself from the heap of cloth and limbs we'd become; then I realize there's a bit more to the pile than two people alone could account for. On the floor, Palom groans slightly...then sits up with a grumble and fumbles about for that ridiculous hat.

"Figured you'd try to sneak out sooner or later; there's no way I'm letting you out of my sight! You still haven't done anything about Porom!" Agh, not that again. Hadn't he already been back to Mysidia to fetch these books? I could hardly see him coming back to read books here if she were still in any danger. I glare down at the mage doubtfully; but either he is becoming immune to such looks or the darkness dulls the effect. "So I've been standing guard at the door. -So where're we going?"

Some 'guard' and a poor liar to boot. I shake my head slightly, the words to send him off to sleep as I had the mage on my lips; then I pause to consider. Cecil had made use of this boy and his sister to ascend the mountain once; I had little doubt of my own ability to ascend the mountain but a guide could certainly hasten the process. So far as I know, neither Cecil or I had entered the dream again since the last time, but the sense of urgency it had left in its wake had hardly diminished.

"We are going to Mount Ordeals. Is that bag with you supplies?" At the baffled sounding affirmative, I start moving again toward the next set of stairs, beckoning him to follow. "Then we will not have to waste time; come. And keep your sleep spell at the ready; the quicker we leave, the quicker we arrive at Ordeals. I have no intention of wasting time explaining myself."

And so do the guards of Baron Castle perhaps have the best rest they have had in years as we set them to sleep one by one on our way out; they would have no doubt demanded explanation on such a late departure, and Cecil most certainly would have asked about it. And about where I had even acquired the information I now follow.

With the two of us weaving the spells, it takes us hardly any time to attain the Road and cross to Mysidia; I ignore Palom's complaints as I allow us only enough time to recover from the inevitable effects before we set off again. That sense of urgency is ever tugging at me, whispering that every delay will cost us dearly. Cecil and everyone else would simply have to wait until I returned with the answers we needed.

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To Be Continued in: The Trial of the Mountain


	11. The Trial of the Mountain

Author: Cyhirae

Note: Yay, finally an update! Took a bit to get inspiration going again after holidays and other 'fun' events. So enjoy~! And for the record- this one kind of caught me from out of left field...Sometimes, stories just write themselves, what can I say?

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The Trial of the Mountain

The passage to Ordeals is a tedious journey, even before we set foot on the mountain. Palom, for one, has made the trail somewhat longer, insisting we avoid a particular part of the forest at its base. When he finally gives his reasons when we stop for a brief repast of bread and water, I find little enough to argue with about it, however.

"That Dragoon, Kain...he never did go back to Baron. He's around here still; I don't know where exactly he lives, but he's usually been seen around the north-western edge of the woods and shows up in Mysidia sometimes when he needs some supplies. I kinda doubt he'd be too happy to see you."

Truer words were never spoke. I, for one, would not be happy to see him again, either. Even if it were at Zemus' behest, it had still been my power that had unearthed and chained him with things he had left to fade. Resentment, anger, jealousy- I had made those an inescapable set of bonds, and perhaps they still held him now. I certainly had only wanted to see Zemus again simply so I could destroy him with my own hands. I can only imagine the Dragoon feeling the same.

Particularly if those bonds have lingered in some form. It is the only reason I can think that he would remain here in this remote place for years. If there were anything in this region that could kill me and would have the drive to do so past all reason- he was certainly the prime candidate.

"Then I will bow to your rare wisdom; now we need to be going. The peak will not come down to greet us." I ignore the sour look the little dig rewards me with; he's been learning in the journey, at least. Attempts at come backs have become more rare- perhaps he's finally realized I am nothing like my brother; I have absolutely no problem with returning a taunt with another, nastier taunt.

Perhaps I should write a letter of apology to Mysidia. He is bound to return with sharper fangs after this.

At last the forest gives way to the mountain; perhaps the tallest on this little blue and green gem. The peak is cloud capped, hidden from our sight...and from the base, the trail I can see only reaches so far before it is lost amid a tumble of rocks, boulders and jagged bluffs. Peculiarly enough, however, nothing is crawling forth to strike at us. That should not be too surprising, I suppose...with Scarmiglione weakened, the undead have likely tapered off all over the world.

Still, something ominous hangs in the air; not the unnatural cold of the undead but a feeling of foreboding. The moment I set my foot to the trail, there is an urging for me to simply turn about and leave; nothing exists here for me. Before me, Palom looks back at the hesitance, then gives a sudden little smirk.

"Oh riight...this is your first time up here, isn't it?" He looks almost insufferably smug as I continue to linger at the base, a barrier of some sort I can neither see nor properly sense keeping me back. "It's a testing ground; Cecil had to climb it too, you know."

"Of course I know." I level a look fully intended to wither the brat into submission as I finally push forward onto the trail. "I am the one who sent that failure, Scarmiglione, off to deal with you."

"Oh yeah." He blinks a moment, then turns to look up at the mountain with a peculiar little frown of his own. "Well, the mountain doesn't let just anyone ascend it if they haven't already been tested. If you really need to get up here, why don't you just ask Cecil-"

"You could have mentioned all of that before we set out." Well, no use; I'm hardly going to back off now and especially not to ask Cecil to try to do this instead. He could barely sit up in his own bed; did Palom honestly think he could muster the strength to climb this nearly nonexistent trail? He sets off ahead of me with an imperious, put upon little sigh, then proceeds to play 'tour guide' on the way, pointing out various things.

"This is where the fire barrier used to be; it hasn't reappeared since _I_ got rid of it!" and "Right over here is where we first got ambushed by some monsters; I almost got knocked off the ledge by one of those birds!" among other little remembrances fill the silence of the mountain; something I'm finding myself more grateful for than annoyed by. For every step further is one grown heavier- concentrating on his idle chatter is something, at least, to keep my mind attuned to the world outside.

For the one within is steadily trying to impose itself on what I am seeing and feeling. The mountain trail is seeking to become darker, colder...an enclosed, frigid place of endless doors of ridiculous height and width, lit only by the tiniest of faintly glowing crystals set along at intervals. I try to blink it away furiously, trying to settle my mind to the rambling of the mage...but soon his voice begins to come as little more than an echo in that endless corridor, and the weight bearing me down makes itself known when I look to my hands.

The dark armor I had worn as Golbez encases me once more, as it had when I had first arrived in this hall upon the Lunarian Moon. I know what this is; a memory of my time upon the Moon. An odd choice, however...this is not from when we went to face Zemus; nor is it the dream in which I had received my orders from that monster, trapped in the Moon's heart.

This is from the first time I left the dream the Lunarians reside in as their ship wanders the void, helpless and frustrated at my inability to speak so easily as they do; when their pity and suspicion had become too much for that younger me. I had fled the few places in the ship that were set to sustain life, however minimally; I hadn't wanted to be found by anyone for a time.

I had wandered, as I do now, feeling the terrible cold of the void pressing in on me as the air grew stale and thin; the armor is bitterly cold against me, even through the clothing meant to keep the metal's touch at bay. I was lost, then and now, and watching as the night dark armor truly became a night scape as little white stars of frost began to spread.

It was not the horrible, soul-cleaving cold of those dreams...but it was one I knew could be fatal, even so. And the air was becoming foul, unbreathable. I stumble about for some time, trying to reclaim the path I had taken to get here only to find it all looks the same. It is all dark, coated in frost and promising no hope of finding my way back. My voice has all but frozen in my throat with each gasp of foul, frigid air...my attempts to summon forth a spell to send myself back along my path, back to safety, fail as lips tremble and mangle the words that barely have any sound.

Fear propels me to move faster; to find the way and keep moving lest I simply freeze to death. And that is when I see it, as I did then: a break in the monotony of the doors and walls: a window, of sorts. One spanning this massive hall from floor to ceiling, showing the stars that pass by as the ship silently moves through the void...and most importantly, in the distance, showing that little blue and green world I had been born on.

A world I desperately wanted to return to, having found nothing here to hold on to. I watch as it shrinks slowly but steadily in the distance, the gauntlets of my armor freezing against the glass. I pull myself away, leaving them behind as I dash to one door after the next, seeking the one that will lead me outside to see that sight unfogged, as if that would somehow place me closer to it....

"Golbez!"

I have to find the way out; I can't stay in this place any longer. One door after the other refuses me passage as I run, uncaring of the paling of my hands under frost's touch. I have to get out of this dead, silent place; I want to see the world clearly as we leave, if I would never see it again otherwise. That is when I see it; a single green light amid all the pale red ones of doors that will not answer. I make my way for it, ignoring the voice calling after me...oddly mixed though it is. Sometimes old, sometimes young....

"Golbez! Theodore- whatever! Stop!"

The door opens as I approach, darkness waiting beyond. Some voice beyond those yelling to me whispers that this is not how it went; I had been stopped before I had opened that door then. There is no one to stop me now, however, as I plunge for that door...and pain greets me suddenly, exploding across my chest and side as something barrels into me from beyond that door. I fall beneath it, letting out a voiceless cry as what little air I have left is pressed out of me by the weight....

And suddenly there are stars above me, flickering and faint high above a layer of cloud. True cloud, not the false ones carved or painted by a Lunarian wishing for something other than cold metal and crystal. I lay upon my back on wind-cooled stone rather than void-frozen metal and stare up at the face of the one who knocked me back from what I now see was a ledge; a high one. In the midst of that vision, I must have run far up the path and straight for this...a drop which few could have survived.

One of those few is staring down at me now, spear tip pressed against my throat. Kain Highwind, captain of the Dragoons and once-servant of mine when I wore that armor and the name pinned to it. A thin, warm trickle along my neck warns me to lie still- the spear has already settled on its aim and it would take only a thrust from Kain to send it through.

Down on the path, I can hear that voice again- Palom, my waking mind can recall easily enough. He barrels around a corner, breathless and gasping...then draws up short at the sight of the Dragoon pinning me to the ground, hands rising up as if he were the one so threatened, the idiot.

"Ah, hey- Kain! Haha...imagine running into you up here...I thought for sure you were probably asleep right about now..." So that's why the little idiot insisted we climb the mountain near the end of the day. Honestly..."You mind? Theodore and I were just-"

"Theodore?" The Dragoon's deep voice rises as little more than a snarl as that speartip digs in; the threat is plain enough. If I even attempt to whisper a spell, that spear will finish what he's already warned me he wants to do. "I hardly see a 'Theodore' here. I _do_ see someone who never should have set foot on this world again." If I weren't pinned, I would probably be laughing at the hypocrisy here on some levels. Kain had encouraged Cecil to speak to me before we left...though I suppose it was more for his friend's sake than anything to do with me at all.

Any loyalty I had ever had to claim from him, after all, had come with a chain's hold.

"Look, I know you don't like the guy and have plenty of reasons not to-" Whatever fate sent Palom here as my diplomat when dealing with Kain, I curse you to hell. The tip digs a bit deeper; much more and he won't need to press in to do real damage. I will be breathing through the hole he is going to leave in my throat. "Alright, bad choice of words; but this is important! He _has_ to get up the mountain; he knows something about what's been going on with Cecil!"

The pressure on the spear slackens somewhat at those words; Kain looking first to myself then to Palom with a deepening scowl beneath that dragon's helm.

"Then when he was running....he was under a Trial?" There's an odd bitterness to the words, then the spear is jerked away as Palom nods quickly. He hurries over to me as Kain steps away, spear pointing to the earth now. He stares down at us both in some silence; then he turns on his heel to simply walk away, leaving a baffled Palom to watch as he goes.

He would not be so baffled, I think, if he could hear what I do as the Dragoon walks away, as suddenly as he had arrived.

_So only that man's sons have any right to redemption? It sets its trial on him the moment he arrives, and yet it has refused me from the onset!_ The bitterness, the defeat and anger in those thoughts is enough to twist my stomach as I try to staunch the steady, thin run of red from the wound he left. All the more so for the familiarity of the feelings contained therein.

It hadn't been so different the day I had left my then-nameless brother to die after robbing me of my mother. The villagers had taken my father from me, and now this brother I had once looked so forward to seeing had taken my mother in exchange. I had hated him; it had been an unfair trade; an unfair situation in all ways. I had hated him, that he lived when they had died.

"I really thought we'd avoid him...but damn, am I glad that he was being reasonable! I thought for sure he was going to skewer you!" The relief in Palom's voice is near comical, shaking me out of my thoughts as he breathes a deep sigh. "Guess he still cares about Cecil, even if he won't just give up and go home. It's not like everyone gets to have a trial, you know, and-"

"Palom; be quiet." I get myself to my feet again uneasily; the Dragoon has since vanished down the mountain, having little need for the trail as we do...but a sudden, niggling suspicion is rising up. Had that truly been a trial? It had certainly been nightmarish, but it had been little better than a vision designed to send me to my death. And if the purpose had been for me to defeat what had nearly been my death then....

The ending of that memory should have been awakening in Fuso Ya's care; I had collapsed before reaching that door and surely condemning myself to death. That is when he had begun allowing more parts of the ship to be capable of supporting life, knowing I was often restless and knew little of the place. Nothing had changed in that vision from the dream, beyond the door opening.

"Perhaps not all trials are as easily recognized- or concluded- as simply facing up to one's actions, Palom." He had told me of what Cecil's trial had entailed as we traveled; a few times, in fact. A fitting enough trial for one trying to simply shed an ill fitting shell, perhaps...but I could see how it would do little for the likes of the Dragoon. "Come on; if this mountain truly has a Trial for me, I intend to be well rested for it."

I leave the baffled looking mage behind somewhat as I continue on seek the shelter he had spoken of as being somewhere along the path...It had not been that horrible dream nor, I suspect, a trial meant for _me_; but it had been exhausting all the same and no little unsettling. This whole ordeal of dreams and unanswered questions had given me an escape from remembering the longing and despair that had sent me here; only to find it would be no different, for all those events had been years ago.

On the Moon or here, on this planet, I was still Golbez to all others; Theodore was merely a name to hide behind when I didn't want to invite ridicule. Rubicante had been right in his question: who was I? What did I even think I could accomplish when the adored hero of this world, my own brother, could do nothing with all of his friends to aid him?

Those questions circle themselves in my mind as I silently lay out my bedroll, ignoring the mage's attempts to ask me about what I had seen or how Kain had found me. I simply close my eyes and pretend sleep as they continue to spin about in my mind, digging deeper with every moment. But it matters little, doesn't it? I only needed one question answered here and it had nothing to do with me.

The others...would simply have to wait.

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To Be Continued in: Ancient Legends, Personal Truths


	12. Ancient Legends, Personal Truths

Author: Cyhirae

Note: Yay, finally an update! Took a bit to get inspiration going again after holidays and other 'fun' events: such as storms, tornadoes, almost-broken-toes and other little things that just don't do wonders for one's ability to write.

And yet this might be the longest chapter in the fic. Go figure. Readers of the previous version will probably recognize some of this scene, though it was completely rewritten with new dialogue and scenery. Less a dream and more a vision.

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_Ancient Legends, Personal Truths_

The journey up the mountain after that initial 'event' passes quietly enough; at times Palom pointed out what he thought might be Kain watching us, but if the Dragoon were indeed keeping an eye on us, he did not see fit to approach us again. Just as well, I suppose...the ease by which I had overheard those thoughts disturbed me as badly as I am sure it would have disturbed him to know I _could_ hear them.

Scars had been left, securing the ties neither of us wished now. The least I could do was keep that fact to myself, or that spear would not simply stop a prick against the throat.

When we at last near the peak, the shadow of the Dragoon disappears from us; turned away, perhaps, by the mountain itself or by his own wishes. I don't know which and I do not care to use those ties to find out.

"I was sure he'd try something..." Palom looks down the trail warily, then lets out a deep and exaggerated sigh as he turns to the shrine, arms crossed. "Well either way- this is it! The holy shrine of Mount Ordeals where-"

"My father's grave where Cecil inherited his sword." Something in my tone must have tipped the mage off this was no time to be a tour guide or boast about the adventure that had taken him, his sister and Cecil up to this same point. I was not my brother, coming here to seek some form of redemption; all I wanted was to know what only a Lunarian or an Archfiend might know of this 'lost history'.

The Archfiends plainly weren't feeling up to sharing it, so I had only this last recourse.

The shrine before us is hardly some impressive sight to behold; a simple rise of rough hewn white stone surrounded by similar ones atop a barren mountain top touched by frost. I am getting heartily sick of cold; maybe it's a boon in a way that I had accepted Rubicante's offer. At least when I went to see what I had agreed to, I would be _warm_. I shake those thoughts away, however, as I approach the shrine...Palom only a step or two behind me with a puzzled frown settling on his face as he moves along side me.

"That's weird...when we were up here before, the shrine was warm; it spoke to him and pulled us all in." He slaps his hand against the stone, grimacing at either the fact he just found it unyielding or entirely too chill. "Maybe there's nothing here anymore?"

"No; something is here." Though I don't try to touch the stone itself, I let my hand pass through the air just before it...cold, yes- but more so than a mere mountain peak's icy life clings to this place. "I suspect the resident in this shrine is dreaming himself...Palom, make a fire, would you?"

"So what are you gonna do _now_?" Palom eyes me suspiciously a moment, but he starts to dig around in the bags; there's little in the way of scrub or other such plantlife this high up. He'll simply have to find something to burn in there.

"I'm...going to take a nap." The look on his face is priceless as he glares up at me; then realization dawns as he puts it together. Maybe there's something to be said for his claims of intelligence after all.

"Well don't go freezing to death in that weird dream, huh? I've got enough explaining to do to Cecil just by letting you come up here!" I pause a moment at that as I spread my cloak for some faint hope of insulation from the chilled stone. He had done more than simply 'let' me come here; he'd guided me at least as far as the mountain, for all the mountain did the rest past that. I had only ever seen this mountain from the sky.

Finding it on my own on foot would have taken days without him to show me the way.

"Perhaps before I go trusting my back to you in my sleep..." I keep my tone as conversational as I can while I settle down, eyes on the shrine. "Would you mind perhaps sharing why I _should_ trust it to you?" Silence greets me; though I hardly need the gifts of my father's blood to sense him bristling at that.

"And just what's _that_ supposed to mean, huh?!" Well he must have found something to burn in the bags as a loud snap fills the air, followed by the sudden flare of heat and smoke. "I told you that you-"

"Please; if your sister were in so much ill health from a minor backlash, you wouldn't be here now or have been sitting on the stairs outside of the infirmary." I've about had it with that worn out excuse...I had gotten used to his presence since Troia, but it just seems odd, that he keeps following me now. "I would rather you told me yourself; but kindly do not forget I could simply take the answer from you and I have little reason not to if you are going to keep on with that tired excuse."

Silence is again the answer from behind me, the soft crackling of a growing flame the only sound for the longest moment as that warning settles in. There's no bristling of anger now; just a sudden shock of...realization, I suppose. Perhaps, somewhere in all of this, he had forgotten what I could do if I so chose. A bit of restraint in its use hardly means I've lost the talent that handed me Baron on a silver platter.

"If you can think of no good way to say it; then you should go once the fire is set. I know well enough you are my brother's ally, not mine- for that reason, my trust in you only runs so far if you cannot even tell me the truth." There's the scuff of boot against stone; but rather than departing the camp, it's coming to stop behind me as Palom stands there a moment, thinking I suppose.

"It's kinda hard to say. I guess I don't have what you'd think a really good reason." Somehow, that doesn't strike me as too surprising. I hold my peace, however, keeping my eyes closed as I prepare to force myself into that sleep. Cecil, it seemed, had been able to enter that dream at will. If my brother could, I saw little reason why I could not. "You aren't a thing like him, y'know. I figured you'd be all out to make amends and all that- but you don't seem to even care about the things you did. If that's so- then no way can we let you run around without someone keeping tabs on you, huh?" The tone is a bit awkward from the mage; even if I weren't so gifted, I could have easily picked this not to be all of it.

Certainly the 'dutiful' sounding part, but still little more than an excuse. I open my eyes slightly, letting a glare slide over to him. He pales a bit in response, apparently realizing the warning in that look, then crosses his arms with a sulky glare back at me.

"And it looks like you've gotten further in a few days than Cecil has in months about all this! If you can get this mess cleared up and get those dreams to stop happening, then he'll get better, right? So why shouldn't I make sure it happens?" There we are; that had a better ring of truth to it. I close my eyes again, feeling a smirk coming up to my lips.

"So as long as your friend is fine, you have little care for what else happens, eh? ...Fair enough." The protest he had been opening his mouth to voice dies in his throat, eyes blinking rapidly at that last bit. "Perhaps it is a bit jaded of me- but I find that a bit easier to put some faith in that than in some sense of duty." I force my breathing to even out, even as lungs protest taking in such icy air as I go through the same motions Fuso Ya had taught me for entering the Lunarian sleep.

Relax first the body, slowing the heart and deepening the breaths...let the joints fall slack and then bit by bit, lock the body out of your mind. Forget first your fingers and toes; then your feet and hands...eliminate your physical self from your consciousness. Turn it all inward, though one comment from beyond that wall I am building slips in before I fall away into it.

"Well that's easy enough to believe- after all, we aren't _all_ Paladins, huh?"

I would have laughed if I could in that state. Indeed, we are not all Paladins. There is only one such; and even he I would not trust not to take some personal angle on a matter.

The words fade away, now...taking with them the last of my outer most senses as I continue to reach inward. The cold of the mountain is gone, but from...'somewhere'...another chill is radiating. I turn my mind to that, seeking it out and pulling myself nearer, envisioning this place as it must look within that 'other world'. If it were cold in the waking world, then here it must be buried in that horrendous ice.

_Theodore...wait._

The image of that icy peak I had begun to build fades before it reaches fruition; another place is forming instead, one both familiar and strange at once. I know well enough the look of Lunarian architecture; the Crystal rooms were all such and the Moon had been little more than a giant fortress of it. But this is not a room I had ever seen...far smaller than any other I had thus far seen, with a massive, reflective wall in the back. It wraps itself around my consciousness, barring the way to that peak I had meant to reach for.

And standing within that 'mirror' is a man I could so easily recall the look of, for all decades had passed since the day he died at my feet. Klu Ya stands within the mirror rather than my reflection, his hand raised to beckon me forward. Quite different from what Palom had described as happening when Cecil had come; Cecil still did not know what his own father looked like. Klu Ya had not appeared to him.

_He did not need to see me; I was never part of his life, my son. _The image within the wall looks regretful at that, head bowing briefly...though there is a sense of distance to it all the same. Cecil had not been part of Klu Ya's life either, born after his death. I suppose such a distance was not to be unexpected. _Why did you come here? There is nothing I can-_

"There is nothing you can _do_, F- Klu Ya...but there is plenty you can say." I banish the forbidden word before it's more than a breath; he was 'Father' to Theodore; but that boy had disappeared years ago. It was a name, nothing more. "What plagues this place, I am told, has little to do with the present and everything to do with the past- a past only the Lunarians know. Uncle is not here for me to ask, so I must look to you instead."

Odd; I could easily call FuSo Ya Uncle...but the word 'Father" fell flat toward this man. Petty, perhaps...Uncle had descended and done his utmost to rescue me from my fate, for all it was ultimately Cecil who laid the matter to rest. This one had done nothing that left any true warmth in my memory; only a bitter, cutting sense of abandonment, dying when Mother and I had needed him most.

The reflection of Klu Ya draws back a step, eyes widening slightly then narrowing as he looks to me; searching, perhaps. After a moment, he folds his arms tightly, hands gripping his elbows as if to hold something in.

_I will speak of what I know; but first a question to you. _The posture shifts uncomfortably; the question it seems does not appeal to him to ask. _...By what means did you even gain the knowledge that led you to me in search of this?_

"That is no concern of yours." The words are snapped back, though the reflection does not flinch. He merely stares back implacably, silent...refusing to speak until the question is answered, perhaps. Silence reigns on for a few moments until I let out a purely exasperated sigh; I do not have time to play these games of pride. "The Archfiend Rubicante told me what I needed to know; that this was tied to something located back in a history Humans did not keep."

The figure of Klu Ya reflects no surprise; only utters a rather low and displeased sound, nearly a moan of despair in a way. Not the answer he wished, plainly...but then he is holding his hand out to me through the mirror.

_Come; I know even that frail bit of guidance will not have come at a small price. We must make the most of it...this is something better shown than simply spoken of. _Before he can ask any further questions, I step forward to capture that hand; nor can I say I'm terribly surprised when he draws me into that mirror. If things could step forth from it to battle others, one could safely assume the opposite were true, hm?

But it is into no reflection of the room I step into. Instead, we are standing on what seems almost to be the Lunarian fortress to me...though the walls are pitted and dark, ill maintained and lacking any sort of structure to mimic the form of a moon. It seems hardly better than a rickety selection of catwalks and darkened rooms...the corpse of the fortress, perhaps.

_This was the first place we had built on our arrival to this world, Theodore. Long before Humans had ever looked to the stars and wondered what lived within them. What my brother did not tell you is when we first came here...it was to find a world that would soon follow our own into death._ He gestures to the world below; even from so high as this, the ills that plagued it were plain to see. It was no blue, green and white gem...the skies were rippling with swirls of dark cloud; when the land could be seen, it was browned and gray, the seas stormy and dark.

"Then why did you stay? If the world were dying as you show me, there was nothing to keep you here." I certainly can't see what the appeal could have been. "Uncle had spoken of a beautiful world, not _this._" A gesture of my own, reluctant though it is to call that horrendous sight to mind again. "And what happened here? Why is the Fortress in ruins?"

_The Fortress you know was not yet built, Theodore. This was the first one we had designed; a place to prepare us for our descent. However, we knew that first we must tend to the world; we had to prevent its death if we thought to lay claim to it. And so, in these halls, the Crystals were born. Then, there were only four. We harmonized them with the elements of the world and sent them below in the hands of chosen warriors. _And so the scene plays out; four Lunarians descending to the world from a ghostly resurrection of the ruin. Once there, they began battling the sickness of the world with the crystals they held, reviving the land and seas, taming the storms that had gathered in the skies above.

_We set the Crystals about the world then; the four who had utilized them scattering to the winds to guard them even as our people began to descend, thinking to dwell among the Humans. _Quite a different story from what Uncle had told.... _The four took Human mates and lived apart from us; they needed to guard the Crystals and those had to be kept in certain places. We built a tower to act as our means to travel to and fro._

"That is old news." But the tower depicted certainly doesn't seem to be Babel Tower; oh it bears a resemblance, but it seems so much smaller. "How can that be-" I pause as Klu Ya shakes his head, smiling oddly.

_'Babel Tower' did not come to be until much later, when the tower was truly completed. This was only its base, if you will. An attempt to begin evacuating this place. We failed to take into consideration that the forces that had deemed this world's life at an end may not settle so quietly. _ And below, the world begins to look more alike the one I know; though at the northern tip of one continent, the land refuses to grow healthy again. It isn't difficult to guess where those 'forces' were originating from.I_Even as we had used the Crystals to control the elements, so did these forces craft a counter measure; and so the Harbingers, who would become known to this world as 'Fiends', went forth with their Dark Crystals and countered all the work we had done by sealing the Crystals' light. Three remained upon the world; but the Fiend of Wind, Tiamat, came here...and laid it to waste. All who had not already descended perished; and those who had descended escaped to a hidden village well beyond anyone's reach._

And so the world changes again; fading back into storms and dead land as far as I can see, while that ghostly image of a restored...base? begins to return to the state I first saw it in. Ruined and wasted, though now I can see the 'fiend' he spoke of; a multiheaded dragon coiled in the largest room of this place, waiting for any unwary seekers.

"Was this then the creation of the Dark Crystals?" I do not even try to keep the doubt from my tone; the Crystals of the world I knew balanced one another rather than opposed. It simply didn't seem...right. The Crystals did not conflict with one another.

_No; the Dark Crystals you know of came to be after this, when we realized our folly in creating only four. But it is not of the Crystals you came to learn; rather, of why they even existed beyond as a way to harmonize the Fortress we built long after this. _Klu Ya gestures to the world below again, now dark and corrupt as you could ask of any aged corpse. _Sky warriors, as we were called by some then, were sent forth to try and battle the master of these fiends, Chaos. They failed...and spent two thousand years cursed into the form of immortal bats to watch as Chaos came and went in many forms, until he at last took the form of a Knight by name of Garland. We waited within the hidden village, watching the world decline and thinking all lost; Lunarians are not so long lived as to have had any left who had lived upon the 'sky castle' as it was known to us then. We had only records to go by then._

A gesture of his hand takes us away from the strange, ruined station and instead sends us below...standing on a slowly graying field spread before a city. Across that field walks four people; all young and uncertain looking, hands constantly seeking pack or heavy pouch at their belt as if for reassurance.

_Then, the descendants of those who had guarded the Crystals after their creation emerged. They knew nothing of their own heritage, only that if there were to be any hope, the Crystals must be restored. They confronted and battled the Fiends, restoring Light and control to the world once again. When enough time had passed, they would be known as the Light Warriors for their Crystals' beautiful glow. _All quite fascinating; but so far I'd seen nothing here that could tell me what was happening _now_. I suppose something of my impatient silence must have let itself be known, for Klu Ya turns to look at me for a long moment...then smiles almost fondly. I_You haven't changed at all...always trying to understand something before you are ready._

I had always thought after being little more than a puppet, then pitied in my Father's homeland and hated in my Mother's, nothing could embarrass me. That fondly condescending tone certainly does a fair bit of that, however; I can feel the heat rising to my face as I gesture sharply to the world again.

"Continue so I will be 'ready' then, as you say!" That small, petty part of me that had hoped to see a flinch or wince at that harshness is doomed to disappointment. Klu Ya merely inclines his head with a somewhat patronizing way, then turns to the now empty expanse of grass, the warriors long disappeared from sight.

_Stopping the Fiends in the present did little to reverse what had been done, however. This world's fate had been decided ages ago; it was we, the Lunarians, who had defied it and set the cycle awry. It was we who had cast the balance of Dark and Light as one of conflict in the eyes of the people rather than of co-existence through our Crystals and those of the Fiends. The warriors found the means return to the beginning of this, traveling back to confront Chaos before he destroyed the world once more. There, they laid him low, but not without some conflict in the victory. With Chaos defeated, the future did not happen; thus the Crystals could not be returned for the ones of the newly born present would have never faded. Being far older and dimmer than the newly born Crystals of that day they had gone back to, those Crystals that had traveled back with the warriors were given to the dwarves to be taken deep underground and hidden away, and were dubbed the Dark Crystals. The dwarves vowed to keep them safe forever and the underground was sealed; it was thought with both aspects of the elements so contained...the world would know peace. The Lunarians returned to the sky and built the Moon, vowing to do no further harm with good intentions; we would wait, we decided, until the people of the world were closer to us in understanding and evolution, so our teachings would not tempt them to potentially release what we had sealed away._

"And as per usual; it didn't go quite as you planned, did it?" Some unease is settling on my shoulders then; we had Archfiends in this day and age. There was not a single legend that did not mention them in some form, though none seemed to actively endanger Crystals of any persuasion now. A coincidence in naming; perhaps a faint memory of creatures too terrifying for even a rewoven time to erase fully?

_We did not think the balance we had disrupted would try to settle itself as it did. We thought we had achieved it with the Crystals of Dark and Light; we were wrong. The imbalance has persisted, if in less obvious forms...for time does not take kindly to being meddled with. It time were a tree, then reality is but a branch...and we sundered one of those many times over._

And then, the last of the pieces, ones I had possessed all along and had no idea how to arrange, fall into place. A world under a trial that had failed...a defied time they had sought to erase.

"Time and reality are righting themselves. The dream..."

_Is not a dream. It is a dying reality, a sickened branch on the tree we diseased. It is a place that must be approached cautiously. If you move too closely, a paradox will be formed beyond the one already consuming the realities and that will be the end of you. _More pieces settling into place now...the difference between the 'me' I spoke to in those dreams and the one Cecil met; how oddly hollow they both were. Cecil was the Paladin, Light's Champion...then the one of 'me' sent to him was born of Darkness.

Perhaps I should take it as some consolation there is something of Light within me after all; or did only my own dregs deign to speak with me after crafting such a messenger for Cecil? Such a cheery thought.

"If you knew all of this, why didn't you tell Cecil? Why the silence; I have little doubt he or even the Elder would have consulted you-" But he only shakes his head; I had barely realized he still grasped my wrist in his hand, but as his fingers release me, I begin to slip away from him...the mirror wall rising up between us again.

_Just as you were missing pieces, so was I. You brought me those, Theodore; I only wish there had been a lesser cost to the gaining of them. All it seems I can do is send my children into danger after danger.... Forgive me...._

I reach out to snatch after that fading figure, only to find my hand meeting with the ice cold stone of the shrine, blinded by the sudden daylight on this chill and barren peak. Palom's fire lies scattered, the wizard himself sprawled back with a certain startled glare as he seeks to untangle himself from the robes of his profession from what was apparently a graceless awakening on my own part.

"What the hell was that all about?!" I don't bother to give him an answer; I simply lean against the shrine for a moment, cursing the now silent occupant within. I couldn't forgive him for leaving us then; and I find myself cursing him anew as he left me yet again. Always, he left us to endure his mistakes or those of his kind while he simply died or watched from afar in this place.

If Theodore is this weak, puling child within me that honestly wants that worthless man inside this shrine to emerge and make everything better, then all the better to be rid of that name and identity.

"..I have some idea of what must be done, Palom. Ready the camp for the night; we will depart in the morning to speak with Cecil." If I waited until the Dark Moon, the seeming harbinger of this...correction...appeared here; it would be too late if I had no understanding of it beyond that. I had to return to the 'dream' again, to learn what that other self knows with this knowledge in mind. Perhaps now, I can make some true use of it. This would be no casual, short lived jaunt, however.

Klu Ya's warnings be damned; he could only tell me the cause. That other me could explain something of the means...or so I hoped.

Something of my tone must have warned the wizard this was no matter up for debate. Even as I sit and glare helplessly at the shrine, he quietly and quickly goes about the camp's chores. Perhaps he thinks I'm mourning; who could say? If I'm mourning anyone, I think...it's the child who finally died for good at knowing his father was once again leaving him behind.

_Damn you, Klu Ya_.

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To Be Continued in: Interlude III: Weakness


	13. Interlude III, Weakness

Author: Cyhirae

Note: Can it be? Yes it is! An update! This is the story that is getting plagued by every delay life can throw from sickness to my computer going down for weeks at a time. I WILL get it finished, however. The next chapter will be a bit delayed as I need to re-read a few of the earlier chapters to get back on a proper thread. I'm working on an original story written in a very different style too, so I need to play a little game of 'catch the thread'.

Yes this one is short but it is just an interlude; last time Kain got hardly any mention at all beyond as 'MIA' after certain events.

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_Interlude III: Weakness_

_Kain_

The shrine atop this mountain had remained silent since my arrival here after Golbez and Palom had left; either I was unworthy of its attention or not yet ready...or perhaps there was simply no hope to be found here. Perhaps once attending to Cecil and Golbez, the presence within the shrine had finished its work and departed, leaving nothing but an empty monument to crown a mountain holding only the undead and monsters growing steadily more savage.

If the indecision were my test, then it was one I would endure...though it grows maddening as the days pass. I've lost track of how long I've been here now; a small cabin built at the base of the mountain, well within the forest surrounding it provides me a home. It's secluded but hardly unpleasant; a life I'd much rather have than being given an unjust reward of a return to my captaincy.

Cecil would take me back in a heartbeat; that I knew well. Even Rosa would open her arms in welcome if I were to return to Baron.

It isn't their forgiveness I need; I cannot even say I need to forgive myself. Respect myself, perhaps...and to know their acceptance of me would be out of respect, not pity. To be as strong as they had once thought me, as strong as they were. That was what I needed, more than any forgiveness. I could never undo the things I had done; be it on my own or at Golbez's command...I ask no forgiveness for them. I would take even hate to pity.

And pity was, for now, all that awaited me. Pity, distrust, unease; that was nothing I wished to return to. Besides, it's been nearly ten years, if not more. Surely they have a new captain...or perhaps I brought so much shame upon the Dragoons the order had disappeared at last. We were a dying breed either way; there had been no dragons in Baron since my father's had passed away.

So...perhaps there was not even that to return to.

A clatter of stone against stone warns me of something approaching, breaking me out of the reverie that had become far too common an event. I promptly seek higher ground, lance at the ready; perhaps it is a result of my own presence here, but the monsters have gotten much stronger over the years. The undead were as worthless as ever, but the other sorts...they had grown steadily in strength and numbers both.

They had certainly been getting smarter, trying to catch me off guard during moments such as these. The beast passes by without giving me so much as a second look, however; its attention is all for the trail it follows down.

The one left by Golbez and Palom in their descent. There is a brief temptation to simply turn away; let the creature continue on its way. He had taken whatever test this place had to offer his sort, I assume...and left hale and whole. He was not transformed such as Cecil had been; the "Man of Darkness" was as much a shadow as he had ever been, but he had certainly had the air of a man given a purpose.

More by far than I had been able to obtain from this place in all the years I waited here, and granted in far less time.

Stronger the monsters may now be compared to when I first came here, yet in terms of battle prowess, I had hardly weakened. The gargoyle like creature barely has time to note my shadow spreading over its person before my lance has plunged down between its wings, piercing the heart and pinning it to the mountain as its life bleeds out. I jerk the weapon free and hastily leap away from the body; the undead will make quick work of it.

Yet lower down the path, more of the monsters are starting to converge on the trail. The single mindedness is almost palatable; they barely recognize the fact their enemy of the last several years is present. A passing snarl, a warming growl; that is the most they offer me until my lance strikes. And then only those struck stop to face me. The rest continue on, following the path the two magi left behind.

The number of the monsters decreases steadily as I pick the creatures off; yet it takes me nearly to the base of the barely visible mountain path to eliminate the last one of that strange parade. The forest is spread out before me now; my cabin isn't far away. With the sun setting now in the distance, I could seek it out and rest while the undead cleaned up what I had left behind.

_I could not give you what you seek, Kain._

I can feel the tension rise as an unwelcome sensation accompanies those words; a presence slipping into my mind to whisper them. Yet that is all it does; there is no threat to attack, no sense of hostility such as what had accompanied Golbez's intrusions.

_I cannot return you to my son as I had wished nor give you what you so desperately wanted; it is not my place to give what can only come from you. _ I turn my gaze back to the mountain; it looks no different than before, the shrine so very far away now as well. The voice, however, continues on. _Many things are now in motion. If you will not return to Cecil's side, then put the same skills you have just shown to use in the name of others. Mysidia must not fall to the coming trials. Go; lend them the strength of your skill and perhaps they will teach you the strength of will you so desire in turn._

"Show yourself!" A pointless thing to shout, perhaps; if this were truly the presence within the shrine, there was nothing to see. But it was a real voice, at least, a sound ringing in my ears to counter an unnatural silence the voice failed to break. "Why should I believe this after waiting so long and hearing nothing until _that_ one came?"

For the longest moment, silence is my answer. A trick, then? The mountain's denizens had certainly tried similar ones before to drive me away from their abode....

_I had sought a means of crafting a trial that would give you what you wished; that would return you to my son. I no longer have that time, nor does this mountain. If you remain, Kain Highwind, you will die with this mountain. That would benefit no one, least of all you. _There is an almost chilling certainty in that tone. _I wished to return you to Cecil, prepared once again to stand at his side...I must beg the forgiveness of you both that I failed in this as well._

The voice falls silent then, but the finality of the decision of that presence is made known. If I had any doubts about it being real lingering, the fire that surged to life at the foot of the mountain as those words faded has set them to rest. The monsters had sought to lure me away, certainly...but they had never been able to deny me access to the mountain either. Now the fire spreads, filling the trail and spreading along the base. I could attempt to outrace it if I truly wanted to return but....

Why? If there is nothing there, if there is no trial that can help me...then I have no reason to stay. Whatever his reason, this presence has declared there is nothing he can do to guide me. In the end, I have to find a new way; something I had always failed at. So be it. I hold no hope for finding anything in Mysidia but if he felt it so important to protect in whatever events he foresaw, the least I could do was see if it truly needed protecting.

I certainly have no interest in a pointless death up on the slopes of Ordeals if there is nothing there for me. I may be weak but I am not so broken as to think death preferable to possibly facing Cecil and Rosa again.

I set the mountain to my back and begin westward; I could simply take a chocobo and arrive faster, but the quiet of traveling fully alone is a welcome thing right now. I haven't honestly sought contact with others in years, not that I hadn't met the odd traveler or few or avoided going to town for supplies one simply couldn't find in the wild. I hadn't ever attempted to stay, however. My business had generally been concluded within an hour of setting foot into the town.

Night falls as I make my way toward the town, though I see little enough point to stopping to camp. I had set out late and there were no monsters fierce enough to worry me; the light of both the moon and the stars was more than enough to travel by. Something feels a bit off after a time, however. No monsters had emerged for some time; there were always a few nocturnal ones that would try their luck on a solitary traveler, but they've since fallen silent. There's no rustle of grass as something tracks me waiting for an unguarded moment, no monstrous calling of those huge birds.

I shake my head to dismiss the unease that had begun to take hold in the unnatural silence, then pause as something else odd catches my eye. High above, there is an odd...line? between the stars; I would almost think it a particularly dense cloud drifting through the sky save that no light from the moon illuminates it. Nor does it move. It looks more as if a few stars simply...disappeared.

_Go quickly, Kain...there is not much time left._

The words come so suddenly and fade quickly, I find myself wondering if they hadn't been a figment of my imagination, echoing Klu Ya's sentiment. Real or imagined, be it the words or that absence of stars, I start moving again for Mysidia at a steadier pace.

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To Be Continued in: Into the Dream


	14. Into the Dream

Author: Cyhirae

Note: ...SSHH! Don't tell Life I've updated twice in a thirty day span. . It might get ideas.

I will briefly note toward a complaint I had received on the original Dark Moon about the story being too heavily geared toward it having to be Golbez to set things right. Before this complaint rises again, let me simply remind that first-person perspective tends to give that lilt to anything since you will not see what the character himself does not see. Cecil is every bit as important to this story as Golbez, particularly in the final chapters; he is not, however, a character noted for incredibly twisty ways of thinking (and you can't tell me figuring out potential time/space dilemmas and paradoxes does not require twisty thinking) or even a particularly deep understanding of magic. Nor did he have access to Lunarian knowledge or pay the price to receive that hint Golbez did from Rubicante. So yes; a lot of this winds up relying on Golbez; this would be why he's the main character of the story.

This chapter is split between Golbez and Cecil. Cecil's part begins with a brief step back to pick up at the same point Golbez's does. It's also a good bit longer, actually. It feels perhaps a bit overlong, honestly; I may step back and edit this at some point. I kept getting a plethora of interrupts when attempting to do this chapter.

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_Into the Dream_

_Golbez_

The journey back to Baron goes even swifter than the path to Mt. Ordeals had; and yet I can't help but feel it is taking entirely too long. Far more than I had bargained on had been revealed in that little game of history show and tell; but though I was now aware of it, I hadn't the faintest idea how to set it right. I doubt anyone had that particular bit of knowledge simply lying about for me to snatch up and make use of.

Or...perhaps I have simply been looking in the wrong places. 'I' might know the answer already, though perhaps it's just a fever dream brought on by the fatigue the 'road' from Mysidia to Baron leaves in both Palom and I as we emerge. Right into the care of an irate company of guardsmen clad in red and gold who had evidently been about to make the journey themselves.

"There they are!" Gauntleted hands are grabbing hold of me and Palom both as we stagger forward, though at least the weapons are remaining at bay. Likely simply a band sent to fetch us at my dear brother's request, I would guess.

"H-hey, hands off...can't you see we're beat? Geeze..." Palom's grumpy sentiment echoes my own perfectly; but these guards may prove useful in either case. I make no effort to free myself from their grip as he does; instead, I nod toward the door of the building, trying to communicate some of our urgency in the gesture even as weariness drags down on my voice.

"We need to go to the King; we may have discovered a way to help..." The guards begin to mutter between themselves at my words; apparently they had orders to the contrary for what was to be done with us once we were found. So much for them being of any use.

"We have instructions to return you to the infirmary upon finding you-" That was as much as I needed to hear. I take a deep breath to steady myself, dragging on the last of my reserves to scrape together a spell, even as my mind reaches out to find Cecil. This spell was not meant to be used like this; I'd surely pay for it but I was not going to waste time trying to reason with Baron's idiot guards.

I can distantly hear their startled shouts as I vanish, the altered 'warp' spell taking hold and whisking me on to my destination. It was only meant for short range travel, reaching not even so far as white magic's 'teleport' could. Cecil's room was just at the edge of my range at the best of days from the middle of the town; attempting it in this condition leaves me half sprawled on the dying king's bed, half on his floor. It's a mixed blessing Cecil is too weak to even raise an adequate cry of surprise to alarm his guards at the intrusion; it will take them awhile yet to realize where I've gone.

"Do not..argue with me, Cecil." I may as well get that one out of the way now as that withered figure begins to try to form words; be them of welcome or scolding, there's little enough time. "...We need to go in...one more time. As deep as we can....I have to...to talk to him..." To myself, though Klu Ya's words remind me of their own dire portent. If I am too reckless in this, we will not be coming back.

We would be well past caring what happened to this world when the Dark Moon shone upon it.

The figure on the bed makes no sound of protest; he merely raises one decrepit hand for me to take. Those entirely too-living eyes in that dying frame show only agreeance; perhaps in some rare moment of wisdom, my brother had made his own guesses about how this must go. I close my hands lightly around that skeletal appendage, but this time there is no dizzying fall into the corner of Cecil's mind or plunge into darkness.

This time, I can see us both; Cecil as he had appeared several years ago, myself as I had been since my acceptance into the Lunarian fortress as the moon departed. The world forms slowly around us; the frozen walls of Baron taking shape from the darkness little by little as the cold begins to cut at us both. It clings to our forms as a thin layer of frost seeking to grow ever thicker as our feet find ground beneath them. Cecil drags me forward as I try to orientate myself; he knows Baron far better than I ever shall.

Yet no sooner have we entered the castle proper than does Cecil abruptly vanish from my side; something is different in this place. Outside of the castle, it had appeared normal enough- if one could count a thriving settlement coated in killing ice 'normal' -but within? Baron does not have so many halls, of that I am certain. Nor would they be so oddly broken; they twist and split, then rejoin in ways senseless to the mind. In some, the ice has begun to take hold, in others, it has yet to reach. Those are the ones I find myself stumbling through, seeking some faint bit of warmth that seems to be keeping the ice at bay.

And the oddest things are found lying in these halls. Here lies an old toy, one I actually recognize. Klu Ya had made it when I was hardly more than a toddler myself, a little wooden cart of sorts. And a little ways from it, a book, its pages tattered and worn. Across its yellowed pages, simplistic explanations of magic and the most basic of healing spells are written.

Memory after memory begins to fill the halls I walk as I strive to reach the center of the 'castle'; toys and old possessions are replaced by sounds. My mother's gentle voice singing a lullaby; Klu Ya attempting to teach a man from a nearby village how to cast the same basic spells he sought to teach me. The taunts of other children; sometimes playful, sometimes cruel...they begin to form a shadow dance of their own in my mind, bidding images to rise where an empty hall should be, dredging up memories thought long vanished.

Memories that slow my steps and pin me in place as they seek to pull me back and live them again. A time before Zemus, before Klu Ya's foolish sympathy toward superstitious townsfolk had seen to his death. In here, those days did not need to end. I could be Theodore again...Klu Ya could be 'Father' again and not die; Mother would not die after leaving behind a brother I no longer wanted.

I could stay. I could stay forever.

I almost want to laugh and cry at the same time at the lie; I drag the truth up from my mind with a scream of purest hatred for the fact reality cannot be so easily cast aside. This little trap almost worked; it would have worked if I had not been Zemus' pawn. He had taught me the strength hatred could give, and though my Uncle had warned me to temper it lest I become like him and not merely a tool...here it becomes _my_ tool to combat the trap laid. It's a bitter irony that the very thing that let Zemus take control of me is now what denies 'me' the ability to control me.

The halls shatter as my rage, my hatred for the false promise of the trap, strike against them on the wake of that cry. Like pieces of broken glass, they fall about me, revealing the ice-clad door to the throne room. And still, Cecil is no where in sight. I look about for a moment, then begin for the doors...if he is trapped in those halls, only he could free himself.

I place my hand against the ice covering the door, sending my thoughts beyond it and smiling at a startled reaction within. Oddly satisfying to catch 'myself' off guard; but alarming in its own right to think he did not even realize the trap had been sprung and escaped. With a whispered spell, I prepare send myself into the room beyond; there is little time left to get my answers if anything were to be done back 'home'.

I could only hope that Cecil would find his own way in quickly, so that I might talk to the true Golbez of this reality and not merely a reflection of him, split to keep a tenuous balance.

Those thoughts are quickly shattered, however, at a sudden scream from...somewhere. The spell I had been weaving falls to pieces with that distraction; and I do not need the urging of the one within the sealed throne room to leave off and seek the source of that cry.

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_Into the Nightmare_

_Cecil_

It had taken some time to discern where Golbez had most likely disappeared to; it was Rosa who had thought to ask Palom where his 'charge' had vanished to; only to find he had disappeared as well. Yet for the life of me, I could not figure out why Palom would take him to Mt. Ordeals. If there had been anything left to learn there...wouldn't _he_ have told me?

Or had my brother learned something, somehow, that I had overlooked in months of going through the self same books he had requested brought to him in the infirmary? Rosa and I had poured over them fruitlessly until I could barely read the pages any longer. And still nothing had made itself known to us.

"Rest easy, Paladin-King. Your brother shall soon return with all you need to know." The room is so much hotter, the moment that voice sounds. I do not need to open my eyes to know who is here. I had not told even Rosa of the Archfiend's visits; strange to trust in the honor of a monster, but Rubicante had shown little interest in Baron itself. "You will need your strength for what he will require of you."

"...Why are you...?" The words are barely forced out before a pang of that hideous cold bites through me. They had been growing worse as of late...but as with every visit that he had yet made, Rubicante drew warmth closer to me to drive it back. He could never banish it all; but he seemed intent to buy me time even so.

"I told you once before, Cecil of Baron; I have my own interests in seeing that which pains you defeated." Yet not enough to offer up what it is he knows unless I agreed to a price; something I had thus far refused and prepare myself to do again...but the offer goes unvoiced, this time. I force my eyes open to look where the Archfiend, or what remains of him, drifts...little more than a ghostly flame somehow wandered from the hearth kept blazing.

It takes a moment for my thoughts to drag their way back through the pain and cold to recall with what words he had awakened me. 'Your brother shall soon return with all you need to know'.

"..What..have you..." No knife of cold greets those words as I breathe in the heated air the ghostly flame emits; I imagine this would seem near stifling to any other, but to my nearly frozen self, the heat is nothing more than a blessing, easing the shuddering of lungs and form.

"What have I done? I offered him what I offered you; and he accepted. He knows now the way to which he must look...something I think you will soon see." I have no strength with which to even rise from my bed, let alone to offer the creature the glare and threat I long to. It is all I can do to simply fist one hand weakly against the blanket, wishing the Archfiend's neck were somehow caught between fingers I barely recognize as my own.

Then there is a sudden shuddering in the air, a sudden weight half thrown across the bed. I hardly need sight as sharp as I had once had to know who it is that would dare throw himself through the defenses Baron had against such magically aided entries; though the gasped out words bring little comfort paired with what Rubicante himself had shared.

"Do not..argue with me, Cecil." The words are barely audible, his voice strained and exhausted. What did he think to accomplish with both of us so worn? "...We need to go in...one more time. As deep as we can....I have to...to talk to him..."

Yet more chasing after things we had already tried; yet whatever Rubicante shared with Golbez appears to have opened doors we had no means of unlocking. I can only hope whatever it was Rubicante had demanded as payment was worth the information as I give my assent. There is no time to demand that knowledge, not if a possible solution lay so near.

This time it is Golbez who takes us into the dream; every entry I had ever made into this had been chaotic and frightening. It had been not unlike falling headfirst off a tower stair, watching the steps fly by as you waited for the inevitable strike against the floor below that never came. With his guidance, it is more akin to walking through a tunnel of pure shadow that gradually shapes itself. As always, the cold is the first thing noted; then it forms ice clad walls and the 'statues' that were the castle's citizenry, frozen in defense of it.

Here even Kain stands, spear raised to the starless sky, returned home at last...only to die as the rest have, it seems. It brings some guilt to me to be glad suddenly the the Kain of the waking world has kept away, as if his return would be some portent of this disaster becoming reality. I tug Golbez along, away from the 'monument' of a friend ten years lost and into the castle itself. We were in 'Cid's courtyard'; the mechanics made use of it regularly. The throne room, seen so often in this dream, was not far away.

But it is not the passage to the throne that awaits once the door has opened. Suddenly, Golbez is gone; the door itself has vanished, leaving me within a maze of twisting halls. Though they bear the look of Baron's architecture, I know them to be wrong; there should have been stairs here and that ridiculous 'secret' door everyone knew about. There is no sign of such, however; only a hall that extends before and after me.

I begin moving along it, calling out for Golbez; it feels pointless but if this is some magic born trap, surely there was a way to defy it. And being a dream, shouldn't will alone be enough? But this dream has never seen fit to bow to my will, and it does not do so now. Instead of my brother calling back to me, other voices begin to emerge from the shadows.

Even though it's been many years now, the voices are familiar. I've heard at least one every day for the past several years, though older now...the other has been absent from my life for nearly a decade but will never be forgotten. I hurry down the hall, using them as my guide as branches appear to happen at random. I nearly run into them, though they look so out of place in here.

And so young. Kain bears the armor of an apprentice Dragoon, no helmet barring his face and long hair from view. Rosa is in her apprentice's robe, smiling up at Kain as they speak.

This...I remember it. It was the day Kain had left to complete his training as a Dragoon; a year at least away from his friends and any form of true civilization to train in the wilds under the supervision of his instructor. Rosa had been heartbroken to learn of the impending seperation; and though I stand so near now, their words are still little more than a murmur.

I had nearly walked into them then; I had come to wish Kain well on his training but held back to let them have their time on seeing them together. Rosa's smile is bright but her eyes are bright for a different reason than happiness; tears are barely being held in check as Kain leans down to kiss her gently on the cheek before turning to go. And then, in this strange vision, I see myself, stepping from my own shadow in this hall to approach Rosa, offering her comfort as she watched her then-love walk away without so much as a glance back.

But something is wrong...this isn't right. The 'me' in the vision is smiling as Rosa presses her face to his shoulder with a sob; a victorious sort of smirk flung after Kain as she clings and weeps at being left behind. His arm rests about her waist, hand lingering dangerously near the hip as he strokes her hair soothingly with his free hand.

"This isn't what happened...I comforted her. I did not do-" My words of protest shift oddly in this place; distorted and echoing back as the tone turns into a mockery of itself. First the tone of denial becomes a plaintive one, then a mockery of itself as the words bounce and slip about the murmured conversation the two figures are having in that patch of 'day' in the midst of this dark hall.

"Did not do _what_, Cecil? Steal her from me the moment my back was turned?" From out of the shadows, the younger Kain appears before me, stepping to the side to watch the two conversing in that odd patchwork of brilliant sun and grassy turf. "You certainly wasted little time."

"It was nothing of the sort!" But to look at that pair, even I would have had to wondered had I see it like this then. But I know this is not what happened; I did not do anything but offer Rosa a shoulder should she need it while Kain was gone. She was just a friend then, and very dear to another friend. "She was upset; you had simply walked away and seemed to have already turned your mind to your training before you were even out of sight!"

"Are those the same words you used to win her over?" This young Kain smirks at me a moment, then shakes his head. "How could I have ever trusted you?_ Either_ of you? I should have known better than to trust in a Dark Knight."

"I was only offering her comfort! I didn't-" My words break off as my own hand, raised to sweep away the denial, comes into view. The armor covering it is as familiar in all the worst of ways; black as pitch and fitting like a second skin. I stare down at myself then as the apprentice Dragoon begins to stroll around me with a mocking curiosity. "How is this..."

"It is what you trained for, isn't it? You certainly embraced the first lesson of that armor and sword; take what you want. You failed to learn it all the way through." Kain raises his lance then, tip just above the ground as he shifts his weight. "After all...I am still here."

The apprentice Dragoon leaps; but when he returns, lance leading, he bears the full armor of his father. My sword leaps up without my willing to meet the blow, forcing him to land away from me with his lance positioned before him.

"Kain, I did not-" But he's only smirking; even as my words are coming forth, my body is moving forward of its own voilition it seems. I strike again and again at him, forcing him back until he takes to the air again. This is not the first time I have fought Kain; not in practice or in true battle. In true battle, however...I always had hesitated. I never wished him any harm.

Now, my sword rises up again, but not to meet the lance. I step aside, a puppet to this armor's commands, my arm swinging up lazily to bring the sword along the inside of the lance, driving it into the Dragoon's chest as gravity reclaims its hold on him. Warmth sweeps over my arm as a flow of blood turns dark armor scarlet; he slumps against my shoulder as the armor refuses to let my knees buckle, taking his full weight onto the blade as the lance clatters to the ground.

I want to catch him, to ease him to the ground...but instead I find myself throwing him down, kneeling only long enough to clean my blade against the hair splayed across the floor, hastening its dying to the deep red that's gathering around his fallen form.

"Kain...Kain!" He's looking up at me, no smirk in place this time. His eyes are unfocused though turned in my direction, his mouth moving as he attempts to speak. The armor allows me to lean down, freeing me from its control at least briefly, but only so I can hear his dying words.

"...Now she's truly yours...won fairly like any prize...as...as befits such as...you..." The figure stills, growing as dark as the world around me. Light suddenly spills across me, that little patch of daylit world somehow come closer during that 'battle'; Rosa stands there now, smiling at me with her hand extended. She does not seem to even take note of Kain, lying but a foot or two away, even as his blood pools about her feet.

This isn't how it happened, this place wasn't even trying to claim it was. It was declaring how it 'should' have happened; a fact I can feel clawing at my mind as Rosa keeps her hand held out for me. There is a dreadful certainty that if I take that hand, I will be trapped in this armor forever...it is all I can do to resist the armor's command that I do just that.

"This isn't...real. It cannot be. It never should have happened as it did; it certainly never should have been like this!" The armor is still bidding me to rise, to claim my 'prize'. I rail against it with all of my strength, but it is like a tide, like the very thing I had once feared as the Captain of the Red Wings. The blade, the armor...they bring their own taint to try and trap me, to twist my thoughts to those befitting what I had once been. Rosa now steps forward, to encourage the submission to what stifles the light I had embraced upon Ordeals.

It is a move of desperation; one I had never imagined myself ever doing as I rise to my feet before Rosa. I submit to the armor that far, but as her hand closes about mine, her eyes are widening in shock. The blade that was still stained with Kain's blood now sinks into her torso, devouring the life in this false Rosa even as it had Kain's.

"I deny you; and all this place would make of me..." Her mouth opens in a scream that never forms to the ears; instead it rips across my mind, driving me back to my knees. Then the hall is blindingly bright after that strange darkness...Rosa is gone, Kain is gone...though the dark armor clings to me even still, there is no blood upon it or the blade.

"...You must always do things the difficult and dramatic way, Cecil." I jerk my head up from where I had been looking to the floor in search of some sign of the nightmare that had happened here; Golbez stands near the end of the corridore, arms crossed as he looks me over with a musing expression. "...I suppose that is one way to keep his precious balance. Come on then; if you're quite through playing with traps and hallucinations, we need to see this finished."

I push myself up as he turns his back to me and begins to walk away; never had my dreams entailed such...dreams within them in turn. I avoid looking down at myself as I try to catch up to my brother before another such trap descends; I had never thought to see myself in this again. I could only hope this particular venture would end before it began to feel like a proper fit again.

Some things were best left to only to uncertain memory.

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To be continued in: A Reality's Dying Dream


	15. A Reality's Dying Dream

Author: Cyhirae

Note: Someone must have let life in on my little secret about having updated twice in a month span. Oh well. . So, a much later update. Have some pity; still working on lots of other projects.

Anyway~ Back to Golbez's point of view! I will also remind readers after a few emails I've gotten that this story is an AU, as this particular chapter should more than drive home. It is not the 'original' FFIV, the DS IV, or any other official variation of IV and as such, some story details vary as do references to events in FFI.

Any readers of the original probably know what's up at the end of this chapter. If any of you are reading this version...*finger to lips* Shh. Let the new readers figure it out. ;)

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_A Reality's Dying Dream_

With both of us now clad in the shadows of this place, I find the throne room door no longer denied to us. The seal that had kept the ice out remains, if now ragged and worn, but a simple touch upon it brings a gut-wrenching shift in scenery. When Cecil and I finally get out bearings, we are standing before the throne of Baron once again. The room is far colder than it had been in previous visits; the fire that kept the ice at bay little more than a feeble, wavering tongue than a blaze.

"...I suppose I should have expected that 'I' would find a way around even my best laid traps." It is my voice and yet not that speaks; it sounds older, in a way. Older and far more tired. The figure by the flame is not what I had expected to see, however. No armor of any sort covers this...other me. He sits covered in a heavy cloak, no doubt to keep the cold at bay, hair left to grow as it will. "You should come closer; the seal will not hold much longer. Then this place shall also fall."

"Yes, you should have. Did you truly think such a lie could have held m- us?" Cecil and I step closer, my brother holding his silence and hanging back somewhat...but this other, wearier looking me promptly turns his gaze to him. A pained sort of one, ashamed and sad all at once at seeing the hesitation in him.

"...You need not fear _me_, Cecil. The one which greeted you in these...dreams is gone; taken by the ice after the seal guarding that last bastion of his reality was broken." Wonderful news; there were even more of me? No sense of relief comes from Cecil's direction, however. Instead he only shakes his head slowly, voice emerging in quiet tones from behind the hideous mask of the dark armor.

"...I meant him no harm. I had only-"

"Wanted an answer. Well...his time was limited at best; as is all of ours in this 'dream', as you term it. Perhaps you did him a kindness, in a way. He was one of those of...us who had not stepped so far from what we once were." That brooding gaze flicks oh so meaningfully to me in turn for that. I level a glare in return, making it plain how much I did not appreciate that little assertion. I had seen that 'me' that haunted Cecil's dreams; I would not tolerate a comparison to that near maddened beast.

"If your time is limited, you are wasting a precious lot of it with this, both of you." I step closer to the flame and this other self, leaving Cecil to catch up to me as he will. The other me shakes his head a moment, pulling that cloak tighter about himself as he settles in again. It is hard to believe that we should, at least technically, be the same person.

I see no will to fight, no fire in this one at all. He is almost passive, just awaiting the ending of this dream or whatever it was.

"...You are right; forgive me." I can hear even Cecil being brought up a bit short at actually hearing such words. The other doesn't continue for a moment, though I can tell easily enough why the silence now. I have my own guesses as to this place now, just based on what little he has said...but better if it were confirmed. And better if he explains it plainly.

I simply hope I am wrong; or I will have to acknowledge this is not the first time I have faced this strange situation- and lost.

"What you refer to as 'dreams', Cecil...Golbez...they are not such. Not for those of us in them. You stand now in my reality, fading a thing though it is. You have stood in other realities as well." His eyes flick to me then. "You stood within the Troia of another reality as that world fought to save itself and failed and then were ushered on by the Golbez that had called out for aid and found instead 'himself', lost and confused; Cecil, you stood before a Golbez who, like I and like the one your brother spoke to in Troia, found himself failing and sought aid beyond the barriers of his reality. Those of us who realized not merely our worlds but our whole realities were shattering found one another; there are likely many more who never made it so far as that."

"Then what is causing this?" My brother's question is a fitting one; for my part, however, I stay silent. Varying realities? Something in this other Golbez's comments did not sit right. This other me starts to respond to my brother, though he hardly looks surprised when I wave for silence.

"Now is not the time for lies of convenience, to try to spare Cecil." I level a long, measuring look at this other- noting now other things. His form had been distinct at first, now, as I question his existence? It is seeming less so; subtle things, but rather like looking to a picture poorly cared for, the paint allowed to blend and smear at the lines of shades that should not have been.

"...The truth, then. I did speak it; but it is admittedly a thing past." This other Golbez sighs, shaking his head and again looking to Cecil; a strange and potent regret painted itself in those eyes. Whatever he had thought to hide, it had hardly been for his- for my- benefit. "...Each reality has failed; we...I...however you wish to see it...chose to send part of 'myself' onward to try to warn our other...variations. There was a cost, however."

"To both the 'you' formed by such a sending and to the one receiving." It was Cecil who replied with that rather than I; a good thing as well, for it was taking all I had not to behave as the Golbez in Cecil's 'dream' had and throw this ragged figure into that pitiful fire he crouched by. "I have walked two roads in my life, I know a person cannot be two different people at the same time. You..."

"..Yes, this..amassed 'Golbez' approached each reality through the only channel it could; the Golbez, or Theodore in some cases, of that reality. The results, however, were confused. We became tangled after too many and could no longer clearly convey our warnings...and such entry proved to make the shattering come that much faster. A fact we realized too late for many..." He pauses to run a hand through that long, rough kept shock of hair, looking old and weary enough to be Klu Ya or Uncle than me. "Our greatest mistake...lay in not realizing the imbalance we further tipped."

"Darkness and Light; Klu Ya spoke of this as a conflicted balance caused by the Lunarians when they sought to rescue this world from its death; from Chaos." The other Golbez starts suddenly at hearing those words from me; he eyes me as one might a potentially rabid hound, a frown settling sharply into place.

"Why would he- Klu Ya knew the risks of telling such things. He always holds his silence to try to salvage the reality he is in by severing it from the events..."

"...He told me of no such thing either." Cecil's tone is nearing betrayed; he may not have properly known Klu Ya, but plainly there had been some trust there. Both 'Golbez' and Cecil watch me closely as I shake my head at that; this is not the place to bring the details of the matter to light.

"I do believe this other me just told you why, Cecil. Ignorance can be a severing tool; however, he did not take into account the actions of others- namely myself- beyond these barriers." I look to that unkempt me again; no doubt he looked as solid to Cecil as ever, but the more we spoke, the more indistinct he became. A mingling of various mes, at varying ages.... "You were leaning the balance to one side by what you did; darkness traveling through darkness knows little light."

"Indeed...and so the decision was made not to approach 'myself' at first...but to approach our brother. To do so and maintain the balance, we chose a reflection we thought we could control." I bite back a scathing retort to that scheme; plainly this other- these other- selves had been driven to near desperation to not see the flaws in that plan. There were surely variations of us that had never released our hatred of Cecil; the proof of that laid in the behavior of the self that had contacted him. "We also thought it the only way; you, after all, were far from this world. Instead, this time it was you who intruded upon us while we sought to control the reflection and pass on to Cecil what we knew, even as the last of us truly separate died in the 'dream' you witnessed."

"You could not master that puppet, however. I saw the behavior of that one. From his own words, however, he is no longer a concern. Whatever is shattering this place took him when Cecil broke the seal by taking me to him." The other nods, no regret visible on that visage at least.

"So many of us joined as one... it was impossible to isolate a single entity to send to you, Cecil. We erred and sent far too strong an incarnation- strong in both presence and in hatred. What we intended as a warning was instead nearly your death. Forgive us...it was not what we intended..." Cecil's silence is all too familiar; it felt the same as what had hung between us on that oh so distant day now upon the moon.

Forgiveness had come then; but he had also been urged by those who knew him better than we ever could. How could he forgive- I suddenly shake my head, hands clasping hard against my own temples to bring sudden pain, to urge those thoughts away. By the fire side, the other Golbez suddenly utters an alarmed curse, drawing back from us both.

"You should not stay much longer; this place is finished. I was foolish to let it go even this long." But his eyes flicker again to Cecil; I know why he did it. Why this me made of so many others and yet still anchored by _this_ reality's Golbez had let it go on. This one had not been forgiven, had not been accepted; he had never heard the word 'brother' leave Cecil's mouth. I know it and feel it, reliving that memory in the back of my mind- mine and not, all at once. "You have one part of the answer, now I will give you what part we deduced though we could never solve. What was set awry must be corrected; all of these realities were flawed from the onset and thus doomed to fail sooner or later."

"Diseased branches, Klu Ya had said...born from a careless decision and meddling in time itself to stop this world from dying." The pieces were falling into place now; this other self had supplied answers Klu Ya couldn't have given. Though what I could do about such a thing...what could any of us do?

Further thought is scattered as with a thunderous crack, the doors of the throne room start to buckle and the floor near it to buckle. Shafts of ice are pushing their way through, starting to spread through the room. Cecil starts forward, catching at the arms of both myself and this other, plainly intending to drag us back toward the throne and away from the ice.

The other me does not move, however; he only looks stunned a moment, then reaches up to gently pull Cecil's hand loose. He rises up from where he crouched on the floor somewhat, to show the ice already forming about his legs as he pushes Cecil back toward me.

"You cannot stay here!" Dark armor or light, Cecil was still ever Cecil. He reached for the sword at his side, plainly intending to start striking the ice to try to free this other me. "We have to leave!"

"You must leave, yes. ...What of me can leave already is." In the end, it seems...their 'plan' continued; for all I remain 'me' for now, there are still echoes of this one's own memories starting to intrude. Memories that make the gratitude at seeing Cecil fighting to keep him from dying with this place almost heart rending to witness. "...And thank you, Cecil...Look to the skies; the enemy you must face is there once again, shown only as an absence of stars- a moon born of absolute darkness."

Even as the ice spreads, the dream has begun to fall apart. The floor, the walls...they crumble away to a pitch darkness no night could ever touch as we watch this other self die before our very eyes; and yet he still lives, literally within me. He and so many others, starting to make themselves known in a desperate, confused tangle of thought.

Cecil cries out again, reaching for the other me as we fall through the vanished floor, his other hand almost painfully tight around my arm as we descend from the dream. Even my sight of him is fading, however, as the darkness consumes all. Perhaps for him there is silence; but for me?

I'm living my life, their lives- our lives....a dozen different variations to each prominent event- father's death, Cecil's birth, our separation, Zemus...how many different ways it has gone so many times! I scream into the darkness my own memories, concentrating on that hold Cecil has to center myself. I can no longer see him but I can sense him; the thing that is fully of 'me' in this sudden dark. He is not any of those other Cecils that parade through the memories; there is only the one I knew.

That presses the mass of thought back for a moment...then in that darkness, a strangely familiar voice suddenly whispers to my mind.

_You would have done yourself a kindness to have given in and be taken sooner...._ With that, a horrible sensation of being swept away through that darkness overwhelms me; I think I can perhaps hear Cecil shouting before the darkness and silence become absolute. I cannot tell him the sudden realization that may well drown with me.

_Sentient...this 'moon of darkness'...it is sentient! It is aware of what we do- Cecil! Cecil!_

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To be continued in: Interlude IV: The Rise of the Dark Moon


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